


Dragging You Down

by a_dangerous_sociopath



Series: Storm Warning [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Anal Sex, Casual Molestation, Gods and Goddesses, Kidnapping, M/M, Mermaids, So many cliches, Tentacles, cliches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-10-23 14:50:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 55,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17685554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_dangerous_sociopath/pseuds/a_dangerous_sociopath
Summary: Facing your fears is supposed to be a good thing, except for when it's not. He didn't even have any intentions of actually going into the waves, it just kind of happened. He didn't expect things to go so horribly bad so very quickly. Now Mark is trapped in the clutches of a being who until now had previously been relegated to myth and legend. And the worst part for him, is this creature might not even be the most dangerous thing out there...Mermaids Are Real-verse, with a side of Greek/Judeo-Christian Mythos





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> When I started writing this yesterday, I told a friend about it and she asked "Really? Why Markiplier?" And my reply was "Because who in the hell is going to stop me? Also please help me. Please."

Mark hated the sea. 

 

But that didn't mean he didn't sometimes visit.

 

Usually just walk Chica, get some exercise, sink his bare feet into the sand. (Which always sounds like a good idea, until you want to put your normal shoes back on, get into your car and drive home. Sand fucking everywhere.) 

 

It was unusually quiet that afternoon. Not too many people on the beach, which in California is kind of unusual. The sun was beginning to dip down into the waves, coloring the sky in shades of pink, blue, and orange. It was beautiful. It was calm. It was so, so different than the non stop chaos of Los Angeles, and frankly, sometimes, he needed that. There was a gentle breeze coming from offshore, caressing along his hair, which had, admittedly, gotten a bit long. It made him feel like he was in another world. It was serene. He tilted his head to the side as the wind began to pick up, letting a different angle sweep through it, whipping his clothes around him, making him feel small, so small. 

 

There was a strange sort of whispering sound, something buried within the layers of wind. Mark thought it was strange. It could have just been him. Maybe he'd gotten so used to California sunshine and calm weather that anything sounding even more remotely different than that seemed weird to him. He didn't like feeling that adjusted. It made him feel restless. 

 

There was a rocky outcropping nearby, jutting from the sand out into the sea for several meters. And he didn’t know why, but he wanted to climb up on it. It felt relatively safer, watching the waves crash a few feet below than actually being in the awful sea, so he decided to try that. Chica padded along behind him, willing to follow him wherever he went, even though he had to know the terrain was harder for her than it was for him. She did really well though, and before long both Mark and Chica were sitting at the edge, watching the sun sinking into the water, slowly falling into its nightly demise. 

 

He was there for a while, the sea seeming to grow quiet with the night, seeming respond to the growing calm of nature, on land and within. Even Chica seemed to let her guard down, laying beside Mark and resting her head on her paws.

 

The wind continued its melancholy song. 

 

Mark was startled out of the trance he’d been lulled into when suddenly, seemingly for no reason, Chica perked up. She stood up, peering into the ocean, and let out a whine that completely filled Mark with dread. 

 

“What’s wrong girl?” He asked the golden dog, putting a hand out on her back to try and calm her. But she only whined again, louder, more frantic. Like she was trying to warn him about something. Mark looked around. They were the only ones there, so far as he could tell. Everyone else on the beach was starting to head back to their homes, picking up their chairs, their towels, bags. There were only a couple of people on the shore, looking more like dots to him, from the distance between them. 

 

Feeling a bit more at ease, he looked back to his pup. Maybe she was just getting hungry, and wanted to go home.That seemed like a more reasonable explanation than the quiet dread that was filling him, making his stomach sink and chilling his spine. So he stood up, balancing a bit on the huge rock he was standing on, and stretched out. 

 

That’s when the massive wave hit him. 

 

Mark scarcely had the time to let out a cry when he went under, swept further out when the wave began to pull him back. He was able to catch the ground before he did, sinking his feet into the mud and struggling a bit to keep from being knocked back under. He finally popped his head back up above the sea, thrashing a bit as the wave receded back into the depths. Something about this shit wasn’t right; he hadn’t seen a wave that tall hit above the rocks the entire time he’d been there. Hell, he didn’t think he’d  _ ever  _ seen that happen, and he’d been to this beach multiple times. 

 

His first thoughts were for Chica, and he found her quickly. She was, surprisingly, still up on the rocks, whining loudly and even barking a little, searching for her master among the waves. Hell, she didn’t even look like she’d gotten wet, and that was weird. What kind of wave was so isolated that between two people, or well, a guy and his dog, the guy would get swept off and the pooch would stay untouched? Not that he wasn’t grateful, of course. Mark looked to her, worried that she’d try and leap down into the sea, and he put a hand up to warn her off. “Just go back to the shore.” he tried to direct her. “I’ll be up in a minute.” 

 

His next thoughts, unsurprisingly, were for the fact that his phone? Completely ruined. He fished it out along with with the keys to his car. Right away he tried to power it on, but it could only give him a couple of half-hearted warnings before immediately giving out, unable to power back on anymore after that. He sighed, knowing that a totally unnecessary trip to the Apple store was in his future. Now he just felt stupid. He should have shoved his phone in the glovebox or something before he came out for his walk. 

 

He glanced up when Chica began barking, even growling a little. Chica was looking at… something, nearby him. But there was no one. No one, even as he turned around to check. He made a full circle before he looked back to Chica again, who was still sitting on top of the rocks. “Chica, honey… head back to the shore.” he tried to point her towards it again. 

 

Mark didn’t have time to add anything else. He felt something cold, and slimey, brush along his ankle. He gasped for breath, startled, and was suddenly pulled under. 

 

Mark didn’t surface again, and Chica howled uselessly at the ocean. 

 

~~

 

Mark tumbled beneath the waves, getting tugged along by the grip, whatever it was, firmly wrapped along his ankle. Just because he hated the ocean didn’t mean he didn’t know how to swim, by any means. He just wasn’t a very strong swimmer. He made a valiant effort at it though, kicking and desperately moving his arms, trying to find the surface. He was so tossed and turned, though, and the ocean, the deeper it got, only became darker, until Mark couldn’t even tell which way was up, and Mark realized he was just expending energy he didn’t have. This was it, he thought to himself. He was going to die, and there was nothing he could do about it. He continued to hold his breath, in a futile attempt to survive, keeping his eyes open, in desperate hope that he could eventually figure out which way was up and make his way towards the surface and precious air. 

 

But when he felt something that felt like a human hand caress across his hip, all hope dashed from him in a second. 

 

This new grip on his body turned him around and suddenly he found himself in the arms of one of the strangest looking creatures he’d ever seen. Human-like in appearance, but bigger, skin paler, almost white. He had shoulder length black hair that curled around his face, moving in delicate patterns with the shifting tides. His eyes were similarly shaded, a dark, coal black. When he opened his mouth to smile at his prisoner Mark noted a row of sharpened fangs, making him think of a shark. His upper body was bare and chiseled, yeah, Mark could tell this creature was strong. Those muscles weren’t just for show. He had dark, shimmering scales covering the lower half of his body, which formed expectedly into fin. It was shaped, again, expectedly, like a sharks, with sharp angled fins. What he didn’t expect was the six or eight tentacled limbs that seemed to emerge from the creature’s back, one of which was tightly wrapped around his ankle. 

 

And yeah, Mark had seen enough bad hentai to know where this was going. 

 

Mark knew better than to scream, but as the creature pulled him closer he was sorely tempted to. Instead, Mark reared back, and drove an elbow into the creature’s face. But if that move did any damage, he didn’t see it. The creature pulled back for a moment, and Mark could just kind of see the creature’s face twist in flared anger. Mark tried to use the opportunity to get away, kicking wildly, but he just couldn’t dislodge the thing’s hold on him. All that effort went to nothing as another tentacle wrapped around one of his wrists, twisting his arm and pulling it tight against his back. Another took a hold of his other ankle, pulling it taught so that he couldn’t move it either. With the grip on both ankles his legs were pulled widely apart, and that’s when the creature’s arms went to work, tearing at his shirt and boardshorts, long claws leaving them in tatters to float away uselessly. 

 

Mark whimpered but the sound was lost in the depths. Those hands returned to his hips, drawing his now naked body up to grind along the creature’s crotch, up against a casing on the thing’s body, he could feel it against his hip but he was too close to see. Mark could feel it begin to open as his legs were drawn back behind the creature, forced to wrap around its hips. It was around that point that one of those tentacles slid up between his ass cheeks,  prodding very pointedly against his back entrance. He decided that he’d had enough. He placed his remaining freehand against the creature’s chest, pushing back to give himself some kind of protection, create some kind of distance between it and himself. He then opened his mouth, releasing the breath he’d been holding and swallowed as much of the seawater as he could. If he was going to die being raped to death by whatever this thing was, then he wanted to invite said death as quickly as possible, 

 

If the creature knew what he was trying to do, he gave no indication, simply pulling Mark in, one of its hands curling into his hair and tugging him in for a forced kiss that Mark was seriously lacking the will to fight. Sharp teeth cut against his lips as his lungs burned for needed oxygen. Marks consciousness was fading so rapidly at this point that he almost didn’t feel it when the tentacle finally pushed inside, past the tight ring of muscle that had never before been breached by anything. It could have even burned, for all he knew. He felt so disconnected from himself, and a few seconds later he was blissfully unconscious. He welcomed it, going entirely limp in the creature’s arms. 

 

~~

 

Mark never expected to wake up again, so when he did it felt like he’d been falling and suddenly crashed through a plate glass window. His body shook uncontrollably as he vomited up what felt like gallons of sea water. His chest ached and burned, and he was cold, so cold. He hadn’t even been this cold while drifting in the ocean. He tried to pull his arms up to his chest, trying to curl himself into the fetal position, but found that he couldn’t even move. There was something holding him, wrapped tightly around him, keeping his body from fully laying out on the cold ground. It could have been made of stone, for all that Mark weakly pushed against it, but he just couldn’t move. 

 

It was around then, as he slowly came more to his senses, that he felt that huge, slick intrusion in his rear. His eyes snapped open and Mark became full conscious, realizing that that creature still had him, was holding him down on a rocky shore, and was actually fucking him. He’d missed out on a lot, he realized, while he’d been unconscious. That slick, thin tentacle was gone, replaced with something much more rigid and massive. And it was pushing him against the rocky shore of what looked like a cave, the stones of which were biting into his skin, leaving various scrapes and cuts as the creature above him panted heavily, hovering over him. 

 

Mark shifted uncomfortably, his passage spasming in protest at the abuse it was taking, and suddenly the creature snapped its head towards him, like he was just seeing him for the first time, and Mark couldn’t help but feel offended. How do you not notice the semi-conscious person you’re fucking into oblivion? 

 

Then the creature smiled at him, all teeth, and Mark just wished he could knock himself back out again. 

 

It took his brain a painfully long time to realize that it was  _ speaking _ to him. 

 

“I do apologize.” the creature said, and a clawed hand scraped along his cheek, in a manner that Mark could almost assume was affectionate. “I’ve drowned a good number of mortal lovers this way, forgetting that they have difficulties breathing underwater.” 

 

Mark had something vicious to reply to that with. He really did. But every mean berating word was instantly forgotten when the creature abruptly rolled his hips and stole what little breath Mark had left. He whimpered at the pain and tried to curl up again, head shaking furiously, tears pricking at his eyes, as he struggled to move, do something to get away from the violating hold. He was only frustrated in his attempts, because this thing was so much bigger, so much stronger than he was. 

 

The creature continued to gently caress his face, in something that felt like a mockery of a lover’s embrace. The creature was fucking him slowly but solidly, taking his sweet time with it,and Mark’s hips rolled upwards with each lazy thrust. It still hurt like mad, but there was a sensuality to it too. He’d had sex before, having had a few steady relationships here and there, but it had never been anything like this, and never, ever with a man. He couldn’t say that he’d ever even shown any interest in any man before, for all that he joked about it on youtube. And this probably didn’t even compare, this member didn’t feel anything like what he imagined a man’s would feel like. It had scales, for one thing, without even looking he could feel them scraping along his inner walls. And it hurt like hell, but with this creature taking his time, caressing him and kissing him... Well, if there was one thing his body knew, it was sex, and even this strange facsimile of it could get a reaction out of him, he supposed. Though he couldn’t lie, it bothered him, and made him hate himself just a little, that his own dick was beginning to react, without much stimulation than just being rubbed against the other creature’s stomach. “What did your mortal mother name you?” the creature hissed out, its mouth moving from his to nip at the side of Mark’s chin. 

 

Mark shook his head and tried to tip his head away from the intimate touch. “Go fucking fuck yourself.” He answered. “I don’t owe you shit.” he added, and the creature above him just about burst into laughter. 

 

“Oh, I knew I did good in picking you.” he said, voice low and dangerous, as the creature’s hands moved over him, making Mark squirm involuntarily. “I’ve watched you visiting my beach for years now.” he said, as the creature’s thumb and forefinger moved over his chest, before seizing upon and tweaking a nipple. It hurt, like everything this thing did, Mark decided. There was no part of this entity that didn’t seem to be sharp. Mark managed to pull up his arms, somehow, slipping past the tentacles holding him down to press both palms against the thing’s chest. “I do enjoy when there’s still something left in them to break.” he said. 

 

Suddenly one of those tentacles slid between their bodies and wrapped itself around Mark’s dick, squeezing him to the point of pain, and causing Mark to shout out. “You may fight me on everything else but this. What is your mortal name?” The creature demanded again. 

 

“Fuck…” Mark bit out, panting. “Why the hell do you care?” He asked. Considering what all else this thing was doing to him, it seemed strange. He didn’t care enough not to kidnap him and rape him while he was unconscious (and apparently drowning,) so why the hell would he care about his name?

 

“Because... “ The thing continued. “I intend to make you my consort.” He said. 

 

Mark stared up at the creature, mouth slightly  ajar in confusion. “The hell does that mean?” He asked, and hissed as the tentacle tightened around his length even further. 

 

“Give me your name and I’ll explain it to you.” The creature demanded again. 

 

“Mark!” Mark cried out, his nails digging into the creatures flesh as he tried to find his words, spitting them out and fighting through the pain. 

 

“Only Mark?” The creature further pried, and Mark growled in response. 

 

“Mark Edward Fischbach, do you want my birth certificate too? Social security number?” he went on, angry, until the tentacle began to pull back and he was finally offered some relief. 

 

“Mark.” The creature’s voice practically oozed with tainted lust. “I suppose the name suits you, but over the years, you’ll likely come to know others.” The  creature took a hold of his hips, suddenly becoming a lot more active, tugging Mark up forcefully, fucking him that much harder. Mark let out a keening sound, as everything suddenly shifted and became so much more intense. He dug his fingers into the creature’s chest, trying to mar him, draw blood, something to return some of the pain he was feeling. Fight him in some kind of way. He probably could have been a bit more effective, but the creature was so deep inside of him, stretching him so wide that he couldn’t even think. It was difficult to focus on anything other than the hard length that was relentlessly pushing inside of him, seeming to hit him so deeply that he swore he could feel it in his stomach. “I’m going to remake you, Mark.” the creature promised him. “From the inside out you’re going to be reborn. You’re going to live forever, only serving me. I’m going to take you in any way I see fit. You will learn to love me, and only me, in return. I will heap treasure after treasure upon you, adorn your body in gold and fine stones. Immortality and love, that will be your reward for being my servant.” He said. 

 

Mark could hardly comprehend everything he was hearing. What was this horse-shit? That he was going to live forever, that he could be happy, living under this raping, horrible piece of shit person… well, obviously not human. He didn’t know what to call him. A merman? But the way he talked was so different… not at all what he would have expected from a mythical being...  a lot of Mark’s realities were being shattered that day. “No!” Mark grit out, between clenched teeth as he tried to fight this thing. “I’m not staying here with you, I have a life, I have friends, family.” He protested. 

 

“And I will make sure they are well compensated for their loss.” The creature told him, as if this was all perfectly reasonable. Mark continued to shake his head, hell, his whole body was shaking now, with stinging tears leaving their marks down his cheeks, all the while this being was fucking him harder, moving faster, trying to find his completion. He almost didn’t even feel the tentacle that was still wrapped around his own dick jerking him off, he was so overwhelmed. Eventually, Mark felt his world shatter, just seconds before the creature did. It gave out a loud shout, before filling Mark with his load. It kept coming and coming, making him feel so full that his stomach ached from the pressure. He could feel it dripping steadily between his cheeks, staining his thighs with the creature’s semen. 

 

Mark fell utterly limp, feeling weak, useless, humiliated and violated. The creature settled against him with an almost contented purr, letting Mark take his considerable weight without much thought for his victim’s comfort. Mark took a few minutes in an almost desperate attempt to settle his breathing. His lungs ached, most likely from his near death experience earlier. He might have still had some water in there, and from the fact that he was still occasionally coughing up salt, he assumed he was right. He suddenly felt the creature’s hand back on his face, thumb brushing along his cheek bone, while the monster pressed its lips to the other side of his face. Trying to be affectionate, Mark realized, and somehow, that made it all worse. Something in him snapped and Mark, using the last of his strength, curled his hand into a fist and began hitting the creature, over and over and over again. 

 

“Get off.” he ordered, and he was even more enraged when the creature gave him an amused look. “Get off, get off of me, do it now!” Mark ordered, his voice nearing a shrieking pitch when the creature was moving too slowly for his damaged sensibilities. He let out a sharp cry when the creature pulled out, feeling his muscles give way with a sickening pop. Even more fluid gushed out of him, even as Mark struggled to close his legs to try and stop it. Those muscles felt like they had no give anymore. He didn’t need to look down to know that he was probably bleeding down there, he could fucking feel where the creature had torn him, in several places. 

 

Mark felt the creature’s various limbs pull away from him, leaving him on the rocky shore. As soon as he was free Mark began to crawl backwards giving no heed to the way he was cutting himself against the rocks in his attempt to flee. It didn’t take long for his back to hit something cold and rigid, and when Mark looked around, finally, he realized something. They weren’t just on some distant, rocky shore, far from the sand strewn beach he’d come from. They were in a rocky, distant shore, in a fucking cave. Because as every horror game aficionado knew, only good things happened in dank caves. Dank caves with no discernable light sources, though it was strangely lit in there. There was no opening that he could see either. Just this black pond, with a gentle current rolling through it. If the water led anywhere, he couldn’t tell where. There was just no visibility there. 

 

As Mark continued to take in his surroundings it became an increasing struggle not to panic. Trapped in an enclosed space with no way out. It made him think of the elevator room at the Haunted Mansion in Disneyland. The chamber with no doors, no windows, and only one way out. It was one of the things that honestly, truly freaked him out. The ocean, with its strange  unexplored weirdness, (he was going to smack the next person that teased him for that one), mannequins, because, well, obviously, and now, being stuck here. Possibly forever. Mark curled in on himself as best as he could, squeezing his eyes closed tight. He tried to think of something that would help him to calm down, but he was so hurt, he was so frightened, cold and absolutely lost. And what was worse was that creeping realization that if he wanted to leave there, ever, he’d likely be completely dependent on the man that brought him there. The same monster who had just admitted he had no intentions of ever bringing him back. He’d begun hyperventilating, as the encroaching panic attack became unavoidable, and that was just great for his still aching lungs, causing him to cough almost uncontrollably, until he was hoarsely wheezing, the sound echoing in that chamber.  

 

It was then he began to think of his family, his mom, his friends searching for him. Chica barking at the shoreline and refusing to leave without him. They’d probably never know what ever happened to him. Thinking about the kind of pain that was going to put them all through. Mark wept just to think about it. He felt so fucking guilty, and that just wasn’t right. It wasn’t like he chose to disappear. He’d been taken. The choice had been forced upon him. He became more irrational just thinking about it, pounding his hand on the cave wall, grieving for himself, for everyone he knew, bitter at the unfairness of it all. 

 

“Stop it.” The creature said to him suddenly, and Mark heard rocks shift as it began to move. 

 

“You don’t get to tell me what to do!” Mark’s eyes snapped open angrily and… 

 

And the creature looked much different now. The tentacles were gone, and so was the man’s shark resembling lower half. He had legs now, long, long legs. His skin had gone from that ghostly pale color to a more normal looking, almost olive complexion. The fangs and claws were gone, replaced with normal looking human hands. He still had that inky looking black hair, but as it was wet and damp it stuck to his skin, plastered against his head and neck. And to top it all off, a normal looking, non-fish penis in place of the scaly genitals he’d been sporting before. He wasn’t sure why that would be the part that surprised him the most, but there you go. He always knew his weird obsession with dicks was going to come back to bite him somehow, he just didn’t expect it to happen like this, after said penis had just been inside of him, a whole hell of a lot.

 

Speaking of which, the owner of that dick had begun to approach him, and it was slowly beginning to dawn on Mark that he really ought to do something about that. 

 

He tried to force himself up to his feet, trying to move into some kind of position to defend himself, but his whole body was shaking so badly, wracked by pain. He couldn’t even get himself into a kneeling position by the time the man caught his arm, yanking him upwards so quickly Mark had no choice but to fall into his arms, leaning against his chest. Mark howled his outrage, struggling to get away, but the man had a very firm grip on him. Mark did his best, but his energy capped out a long time ago, and he finally sank against the man with a defeated noise. If the man was strong enough to trap him there, strong enough to manipulate him however he pleased, strong enough to hold him down and rape him, then this man was going to do however he pleased, and Mark knew he had no say in any of it. He was fighting a pointless fight with a brick wall. 

 

“What are you doing?” Mark croaked out weakly as the man shifted his grip on him, gently lifting him into his arms. 

 

“Well, I’m not about to leave you like this.” The man answered, cradling Mark against his chest as he turned back towards the black pond. Mark just closed his eyes. Even if the man drowned him at this point, it would be better than this new reality he found himself in. He hissed to feel the water rolling over him, moving quickly over his chest. And he had thought before that he couldn’t get any colder in this cave, but that was before he was being dunked into the water. All his various injuries ached to feel it, especially his ass, which burned to have the sting of salt water brushing against it. Mark grabbed onto the man despite himself, holding on when he felt something moving over him, brushing along his stomach, groin, between his thighs. It took him a dismal amount of time to realize that it was the man’s spare hand, and he was trying to get him clean. And sure, he supposed he could see the sense in it, but it still irritated him to think that he wouldn’t need to be cleaned like this if the man had kept his fucking hands and tentacles and weird freaky fish-dick to himself. Traumatized Mark, he decided, was a Mark who had very strange thoughts while trying to cope. 

 

He gritted his teeth, hard, feeling that wandering hand pass over his ass and without any hesitation, slide two fingers inside. There wasn’t even any resistance from his abused hole. Mark whimpered, ducking his head down to press against the man’s shoulder, as if he was trying to hide. 

 

“This will heal before long, especially with the changes I’ve been making to you.” He said, finally withdrawing his fingers. That roused Mark a little from the daze he’d fallen into, pulling back a bit to look at the other man. 

 

“The hell does that mean?” He asked, as the man turned back around, carrying him back towards the shore. Mark didn’t try to fight it anymore, letting the man carry him wherever he wished. It wasn’t like there was a damned thing he could about it do anyways, he’d learned the hard way. 

 

“Well I told you before didn’t I?” The man cooed to him, as they moved away from the pond. 

 

“Yeah, you didn’t really explain any of that very good.” Mark drawled, as the two of them moved away from the pond, the rocks that liberally littered the shore gradually becoming more sporadic, turning into what he would have expected a cave floor to look like. A little smoother, like an uneven concrete slab. He still had no fucking clue why he could see in there, without any discernible light sources. But it was definitely lit up, like there was some kind of chandelier illuminating things that he was too fuck-brained to see. 

 

But then they passed by what looked like a very old chair. And for some reason that shocked his brain into waking him up a little. He turned from the man, just kind of turning in his arms a little and saw… well, Mark could only describe it as a lair. And further, because when he is having difficulty knowing how to really describe things, his mind would turn to pop culture references from his childhood, he thought he could liken it to the Phantom’s lair in that god awful Gerard Butler movie his mother dragged him and his brother to when he was like, ten or something. There was an old bed with a somewhat fancy headboard, and close by was a gold-painted, though somewhat beaten up looking piano. There was a shelf near to it, filled with a good number of tattered books. There were various sofas and chairs, and pillows and cushions, a lot more than necessary, he thought, for a man living alone. He thought at first that the place was glittering, and it took him a bit to realize that it wasn’t glitter, that would be dumb. There was, however, a large amount of gold coins and gems strewn over the floors, and something clicked in for Mark. He remembered something about this man wanting to adorn him in gold and jewels, like he was a concubine or something. Or maybe this guy was the Phantom to his Christine Dae, and Mark snorted at the imagery that evoked. He was no Christine, but this guy could probably pull off a wickedly intimidating Phantom. 

 

With more gentleness than he was expecting, the man, creature, what the hell ever placed him in the bed and pulled the surprisingly soft covers up over him. Mark slid into the center of it, seeming confused, as the creature threaded gentle fingers into his hair, swiping through brunette waves, and letting out a sort of fond sigh. “You have no idea, my darling, how long I’ve wanted this.” He said to Mark, voice almost a whisper. Mark stopped him as he went to caress him again, pushing his hand back, obstinately. 

 

“Don’t touch me.” Mark ordered, but he knew that the firmness in his voice was probably undermined by the image he made. He felt so small laying on that bed, on his back, he knew he probably didn’t look any kind of intimidating right then. “How long have you been wanting this?” He asked, and he didn’t know why that mattered. Why did it matter how long this strange being had been stalking him? 

 

“Years.” The man admitted then, and he seemed to roll his neck and shoulders lazily. It was the first time he’d seen the man, creature, whatever, show any kind of exhaustion, anything other than the abnormal strength he’d shown while manhandling Mark. 

 

“Years?” Mark asked then, and the man chuckled. 

 

“I’ve watched you from the shallows.” The man admitted. “It was the closest I could get to you. You never ventured that far into the ocean, and there were always too many people around. I’d try to lure in with various spells, but you always seemed to keep your distance.” 

 

Mark snorted, again, at that.  _ Yeah _ , he thought to himself.  _ Because the ocean is fucking evil, and the proof was sitting right next to him _ . 

 

“It wasn’t until today that I thought I could make my move. I don’t know if it was my song that lured you out or if you were feeling some sort of adventurous. But the moment you stood on the edge of that rock I had you.” he said with a smirk. “You were mine and you didn’t even realize.” He said.

 

“Yeah.” Mark put in, a hand moving to his face to shield himself from the oncoming migraine he could feel coming on. “Great. Good for you.” He thought there was something different about the wind that day. Some note to it that didn’t sound right, that was just a little strange. Now he knew, he supposed. He really wished he’d been less curious about it.

 

“Oh, don’t be bitter, Mark.” Mark tensed as he felt the man moving in, placing his arms on either side of his body and leaning over him. “You’ll learn to enjoy your place with me. Beneath me. Well, we’ll have plenty of time to explore any number of positions. We have all the time in the world.” And that damned hand began to make its way back to his cheek and Mark smacked it again, pushing it away and he felt again like he needed to move. He scrambled backwards until his back hit the headboard, one side leaning on his hip to try and keep the pressure off of his sore arse. 

 

He gasped a little as the man took a fistful of his hair at the nape of his neck and yanked, forcing his head to crane backwards, exposing his neck. 

 

“Of course, you’ll also have the time to learn,” The man replied, yanking pointedly at Mark’s hair. “...that when I wish to touch you, you will be compliant and allow it.” He told him firmly. 

 

“I don’t have to do shit.” Mark replied, squirming as he tried to get away from the man’s hold, without unnecessarily scalping himself. So far, no luck. “You kidnapped me. You kidnapped me, hurt me, and took me away from my life, my family and friends, even my fucking dog. I don’t give a fuck what you think. I fucking hate you, and I will never, ever stop fighting you.” He swore to the other man. 

 

The man just grinned at him in response. His hand slid down from his grip on his hair, curling around the back of his neck. “Oh.” The man replied, as he drew Mark in, his other hand going to his waist to further cage him in. “I do so love it when they fight. Mark, I’m going to enjoy breaking you in. It’ll be so much more enjoyable, later on, when you’re whining and whimpering for my touch, seeing how far I’ve forced you to come.” he purred. “I can hardly wait, can you?” He asked, as he surged in, claiming Mark’s lips in a deep kiss.

 

Mark bit his bottom lip in response. 

 

It was frustrating to see that that didn’t even slow the man down. He didn’t even break the skin. 

 

When he was finished, Mark sank back down to the bed, defeated as the man moved to stand, stretching out again. 

 

He was so exhausted, watching with watery eyes as the man moved over to the bookshelves, seeming to peruse its contents. Finally the man picked out a book and began to scan through the pages, licking his fingers to help him move through it. Finally, he found what he was looking for and he returned to the bedside, plopping the book down next to Mark’s lap.

 

Mark picked it up at the page the man had saved, turning it over to look at the crimson, fabric-bound book’s cover. In gold writing, the book seemed to say that it was a tome of Ancient Greek Mythology. 

 

“The hell is this?” He asked, his eyes shooting back to his captor’s, and the man shrugged. 

 

“I thought you wanted to better understand your plight.” He said to him, pointing to the book in Mark’s hands. “So I’m providing you with that information. I assume it’ll keep you busy, while I go search of something to feed you.” he said to Mark. “You’re going to need your strength. Your body is going through a lot right now, due to my spell.” he said. “And I would like to have you one more time before I turn down for the night.” 

 

And that caused a shiver to run through Mark’s body. Just the way he said it so casually. Like he was just going to turn in, have a nice dinner, and watch Jeopardy, right before he ravaged Mark’s body and brushed his fangs. It was fucking bizarre. 

 

“Well.” Mark mumbled, not seeming to know what to say to any of that. Something came to him then, and he looked back up at the man. “What do I call you?” He asked. Because the man had earlier made such a big deal out of it. He wondered if the man would reciprocate, or if it had all been just another power move. 

 

“My name?” He man questioned, tipping his head to the side, as he seemed to thoroughly examine his prisoner, like he was trying to read his intentions for this information. “Your kind has had so many different names for me over the years. Call me whatever you wish.” he said, giving a shrug. 

 

“Okay.” Mark replied, tossing his hands up in frustration. “Bastard McPrickface it is.” 

 

The man raised an eyebrow at that. “But then again, you seem to be a man who craves limitations to be set on him.” He hummed a little, thinking it over. “In the past I’ve been called Cadmilus. Or Kasmilos. Depending on the dialect speaking it.” 

 

“Kas. Mi. Los.” Mark said each syllable slowly, seeming to turn the name over in his head a few times. “Milo?” he finally said, before looking to the man. 

 

The man nodded his approval, before turning back towards the pond. “Milo is acceptable.” He said, as he moved towards the pond, his skin color turning back to that unnatural white color, scales emerging from the skin in a manner that looked painful, like a needle being pushed through thick material, and covering his body once again. Mark looked away before Milo had completely transformed, turning his attention back to the book in his hands. 

 

Mark ran his fingers over the cover, before finally flipping over to the chapter Milo had specifically picked out for him, and read the title. 

 

_ The Rape of Ganymede _


	2. Just Wanna Bewitch You (All Night)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kind of like stunned at myself for how fast I got this out, lmao. Thanks to everyone who commented your support, that was all very sweet and motivating. (=^･ω･^=) There is hope for this fic, I have in my head a very, very clear picture of where the ending is and what it's going to be, so I'm pretty excited, honestly. I hope everyone is enjoying my insanity, with express apologies to Markiplier.

Mark ended up having a lot of time on his hands after Milo left. He read the chapter Milo had picked out for him in mild disgust. He’d seen Hercules as a child, (he had more fond memories of the Kevin Sorbo one than the Disney ones, mostly because it came on right before Xena and Lucy Lawless was a damn fox,) but reading the actual myths was very different from any of that. Ganymede, it turned out, was a young boy hunting in the woods, whom the King of the Gods, Zeus, had fallen in love with. And as Gods were apparently wont to do Zeus disguised himself as an eagle, swept down upon him while he was alone, and carried him back to Mt. Olympus, where he gave the teenager a job as a ‘cup-bearer’ to the gods. And now the book didn’t outright say it, but Mark could tell that it was being heavily implied, that Zeus and Ganymede were fucking, but it was pretty heavily assumed that they were lovers. Some of the artwork that was actually depicted in the book made the whole fucking part of that story very, very obvious. Mark didn’t much care for the fact that Milo was making the comparison between him and Ganymede, honestly. The story didn’t seem to end all that happily for him. Sure, being turned into a constellation might have been pretty cool for his space fetish, but on the other hand, he had a feeling he’d get pretty bored, and besides, after a while he’d miss Chica.

 

Hell, he missed Chica so much now. She was so good at sensing his moods, knowing when he was upset or frustrated. Whenever he was sick Chica was right there, laying in bed beside him, keeping a careful watch over him. And being stuck in this cave without her, without any kind of stimulus aside from the gentle sounds of the waves over the pond, well. He was just feeling kind of lonely. 

 

He tried to ignore the way he was feeling, both physically and emotionally, and turned his attention to the rest of the book. Flipping through a chapter about Poseidon, he found what looked like a family tree scrawled into the inner block of the book with a pencil. He looked it over curiously. The writing was faint, and shaking, and he remembered that older people tended to write like that after having a stroke. So it seemed unlikely that it was written by Milo. But then if Milo didn't write it out, then who did?

 

The tree was four names with a stroke linking them, were listed as such: “poseidon-proteus-axiocersus-???kadmos???”

 

Mark's thumb brushed over the name surrounded by question marks, examining them with a bit of a frown. 

 

Mark's study was interrupted when he heard a sound that was like the crunch of gravel echoing in the chamber. He didn't even stop to think twice. He slammed the book closed and threw it directly at the head of whoever had entered that space, just assuming that it was Milo. He was surprised to see someone totally different duck to the side, the book sailing cleanly by his head. Mark didn't know what he was more impressed by, his almost headshot with the book, or the man's ability to duck it. 

 

The book landed half way in the water with a splash, and Mark swore. 

 

The man turned from the book back to Mark, looking him over curiously. “You dropped that.” The man drawled. For the first time, Mark looked at the guy, really looked at him. He… actually looked nothing at all like Milo. He had wavy brown hair, pulled back into a low ponytail. He had a long scar, that crossed from the top of his head, down and across a golden eye. The eye on the other side was totally different color, a dark brown that stood out against tanned skin. He could have easily passed for someone of Mediterranean descent, maybe even Italian. He was dressed pretty finely, with a leather jacket with enough buckles on it to make it look expensive, and under it, a white shirt, with some sort of symbol on it, scrawled in red ink. He had on black pants that were tucked into chunky, mid-length boots, the dress code for someone who probably spent a lot of time on the back of a Harley. He was tall too, ridiculously tall, and Mark had to cut off his thought process from going into his trove of ‘Mark is short lol’ jokes. Mark groaned a little in response to the gentle teasing.

 

“Yeah… I need that actually, can you… do you think you could bring that here?” He asked, holding his hands out for the book. He wouldn't have minded getting it himself, but he was kind of completely naked under those sheets, and yeah, of course, his ass hurt like hell. 

 

The man just shrugged and leaned down, fishing the book out of the water. “Want me to chuck it back at your head?” He asked, giving the book a distasteful shake. 

 

“No!” Mark said quickly. “And, uh, sorry about that. I guess. I thought you were Milo.” He said by way of explanation. 

 

The man came and handed him the book, giving him an odd look at the name. “Milo?” He asked Mark, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

“Well I'm not calling him ‘Kasmilos’ whenever i want to tell the bastard to fuck himself.” Mark replied giving the book a couple of shakes himself. He hoped Milo wasn't attached to that one or anything. Honestly, it was about the Greek Pantheon and the fanfiction that sprung up around them. He could probably get something like that at any run of the mill Barnes and Nobles for ten cents. 

 

The other man snorted, looking back to Mark. “Odd name for him to pick out for himself.”

 

“Well, technically, I picked it out.” Mark replied with a shrug.

 

“Ah.” The new man replied, tipping his head to the side. “Sounds like a dog’s name.” 

 

“Well, it’s fitting then.” Mark replied, voice a little snappy. Although right about then, he thought a lot more highly of all dogs than he did of Milo. 

 

“I think I see what's happening here.” The other man put in.

 

“Really?” Mark asked, glancing from the book to the man, who had kind of shifted his position. He was now sitting at the edge of the bed, kind of lazily leaning against it with one hip, as he looked off, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Well would you enlighten me, please? While maybe also taking a few steps back, because I don't know you or anything yet.” Mark said, subconsciously tucking his legs up closer to his body. This man seemed so perfectly at ease here, and considering everything that Milo had put him through that day, he wasn't about just let anyone new get close to him. 

 

“Well… I was just thinking to myself,” the man explained, and Mark was relieved to see the man take a few obligatory steps back. At least he listened.. “That he must really like you to let you, mere mortal, give him a name like that.”

 

Mark scratched uncomfortably at the back of his head, growing more confused. “I mean, it wasn't my first choice. But sure, I guess.” He mumbled. 

 

The other man hummed softly. “You must be very new here to be so unsure.”

 

“I've only been here a few hours.” Mark admitted, after a moment. “Maybe less than that, fuck if I know.” 

 

“Hm. Swiped you off some god forsaken shoreline, did he?” The other man smirked a little. “You'll have to forgive Milo, he's a few thousand years behind the times. It hasn't caught up to his neck of the woods yet that humanity no longer romanticizes the idea of kidnapping a mortal to serve the gods. Funny, isn't it, how those morals shift over time.” The man went on. 

 

“I have no interest in forgiving him… I just want to go home and forget about him.” Mark sighed. “Who are you, anyways? Is Milo a friend?” He asked, wondering if he should be nervous about him. 

 

“Oh, you could say that, I suppose.” The man smiled, and it gave Mark a sort of uneasy feeling seeing it. “My name is Bael. Milo and I have been, well, friendly rivals, for the better part of a millenia.” He said to Mark. 

 

“Friendly?” Mark asked, dubious. 

 

“Friendly.” Bael asserted. “We have this game we play. I take something precious from him, he comes and gets it, if he can. And it goes on, and on, back and forth. Sometimes with him gaining ground, and sometimes I.” He said.

 

“Oh.” Mark replied. “So you know him pretty well, then.” He said. 

 

“I probably know him better than anyone else still alive on this planet.” The man said. 

 

“Why is he such a dick?” Mark asked, and Bael burst into laughter at that. 

 

“Oh.” Bael said after a moment. “I like you. I can see why he likes you.” He said. “Hmm. Milo is just… complicated. Intelligent. Serious to a fault, at times. His family kept mostly to themselves, and were nearly forgotten over the years.” Bael shrugged. 

 

Mark gave Bael a skeptical look.  “And that's all?” He asked. 

 

“Well, imagine protecting a certain set of people for years, and after a while those people just forget about you, or better yet, beginning to attribute the work you were doing to someone else.” Bael said. 

 

“Oh.” Mark replied with a frown. “I guess that would suck.” He said. 

 

“Well, I'd say he's recuperated a fair amount over the years I mean, just look at this palace he has to himself.” Bael cackled a bit, in a way that decidedly didn't sound particularly nice to Mark.

 

“Doesn’t excuse what he did to me.” Mark added, voice low and nearly muttered, as he flicked through the damp pages of the book. It didn’t seem to bare any new damage, the words weren’t washed away. He figured it would probably be fine if left to dry for a while. He didn’t know if Milo actually cared about it, but he had noticed the fair amount of notes throughout the leaves. It looked like someone was working with it. 

 

Bael cleared his throat, gaining Mark’s whole attention yet again. 

 

“Now, my dear, as a point of business, I’ve offered you a fair amount of information. And as a show of your good will, I would appreciate the same.” he noted, waving a hand in Mark’s direction. “Your name, if you please.” 

 

“Oh. I’m Mark.” Mark said, unsure of just how much Bael wanted to know. “I’m a Youtuber.” He added, just to see what the man would say. 

 

“Oh, Milo is definitely not going to understand what that is.”  Bael smirked a little. 

 

“Color me shocked.” Mark shook his head a little. “Can’t imagine this place having wifi… Even if he hadn’t destroyed my phone, I doubt I could get it to work here.” he said. “Where are we, anyways?” 

 

Bael raised an eyebrow in Mark’s direction. “Well, if I tell you that, I would expect information of equal value.” He said. 

 

“Fair enough.” Mark decided figuring out how the rest of this conversation was going to go Because if he was ever going to get the hell out of there, he needed to know a few things, so he figured he could spill a few of his own secrets to this man. “I live in Los Angeles these days, but I grew up in Ohio.” he told the man. 

 

“Los Angeles.” Bael replied, humming his interest. “And you like it?” he asked curiously. 

 

“I mean, the traffic is a constant nightmare, but I can deal.” Mark shrugged. 

 

“I see.” Bael replied. “Well it’s a little hard for me to explain where you find yourself, currently, but you know of Catalina, right?” 

 

“Catalina?!” Mark asked, somewhat excited. “Yes, I know Catalina! I’ve been there. Avalon, right?” he said. Fuck, no wonder there were so many jagged rocks lining the black pond. That was a Catalina thing. No sand anywhere on that beach facing LA, just rocks. Mark had had scrapes fucking everywhere after that adventure. If he really was on Catalina, then he wasn’t far from home at all. All he had to do was find an exit to this god forsaken cave, make his way out, he could borrow someone’s phone, get a ride back on one of the ferries, he’d done all of that before. 

 

“Avalon…” Bael nodded. “About… well I would say, about 900 or so feet below it…” He said, his face quirking with amusement when Mark’s face suddenly dropped. 

 

“900 feet?” Mark asked again, just to clarify. 

 

“At least, yes. So even if you were to find your way to this cave’s entrance, and attempt to float your way to the surface, well, you’d be dead pretty quickly from the pressure. Not to mention the whole way you’d have to be holding your breath, and I don’t think even the most experienced free divers can hold their breaths long enough to… oh, Mark, are you alright?” Bael asked, in a way that almost made Mark think he was feigning concern. “You’re looking a little pale.” 

 

“I think I’m gonna be sick.” Mark replied, looking for a bucket or something. Setting the book aside Mark slid out of the bed, no longer caring about how naked or sore he was right then. He felt dizzy. His stomach was in knots. He was over half a mile beneath the surface of the  _ ocean _ . The  _ ocean _ . That he was very, very afraid of. Surrounded by bizarre and terrifying creatures that could devour him in an instant. They, humanity, as a _ species  _ knew more about  _ space _ than they did about the fucking  _ ocean _ . And Mark was trapped there. There was no way, even if they knew where he was, he could ever be rescued. It was out of the question. He remembered how fucking hard it was for them to rescue that soccer team that went missing overseas. An experienced professional diver actually **_died_ ** during that mission, and that had been to rescue a group of kids. With like, actual futures and stuff. And he was just some asshole screaming at video games on the internet. No one was making that trip for him. This was actually worse, because not only was Mark stuck in some cave system, he was stuck in some cave system while also being 900 feet below the surface of the  _ fucking goddamn dangerous ocean _ . 

 

Mark finally found something that looked like he could use it as a bedpan and began to hurl. He didn’t even have all that much in his system, so it was mostly spit and bile, but his panic was so sincere that he didn’t have a choice. He hunched over that thing and projectile vomited what he was pretty sure was monster energy drink from a few weeks ago, and yeah, that didn’t make any sense at all, but he guess his system had to find something to spill out of him. 

 

A few minutes in he felt Bael move in closer, draping what he was pretty sure was the jacket off of his back over Mark’s shivering shoulders, and felt the man’s hand pressed against his back, offering him some comfort and support. When Mark was finally able to stop heaving so badly he pulled back, dropping the bucket and allowing himself to rest, finally, in Bael’s arms. It was kind of comforting, honestly, and it might have been his imagination, but he thought Bael might have been a little warmer than Milo was. He was still sort of strung out from the bad panic attack he’d just had, but Bael was actually going a long way to soothe those frayed nerves just by holding him, rubbing gentle circles on his back. 

 

After a moment, Mark gently disengaged, tugging the jacket around him more tightly. “Thanks.” he he said shortly, running a hand through his hair subconsciously. He probably looked like a complete mess right about then, and Bael was actually being pretty cool about it, all things considered. Well, being Milo’s friend, he supposed that kind of explained it. He was nice to his friend’s girlfriend’s too. And, Mark made a face at that thought. Last thing we wanted was to think of himself being that kind of attached to Milo.

 

“Don’t concern yourself, Mark, this is hardly the only panic attack I’ve consoled. Rather, I fear I might have been it’s cause.” Bael said to him, still rubbing circles over his back. “You ought to be back in bed, I’m sure Milo will be home soon.” he said. 

 

“Yeah,” Mark agreed weakly, moving to stand, with Bael’s gentle support. Together they made their way back, and Mark was grateful for Bael's help. He even pulled the blankets back and more or less tucked him in. Mark went to offer him the jacket back and Bael shook his head.

 

“Keep it, for now.” Bael said. “I'll come back to collect it at some point, when I decide to come back to steal from Milo again. I know it gets chilly down here.”

 

“Yeah, it does.” Mark agreed, watching as Bael shifted, appearing to get ready to go. “What were you gonna take, anyways?” He asked. “You sure you don't want it now? It’s not like I'm gonna stop you, I fucking hate Milo.” He reminded. 

 

“Well.” Bael replied, glancing around the lair, his eyes not really settling on anything in particular. “I did have something I wanted, but now that I've been here, I might have changed my mind.” He admitted. “I think I've found something much more valuable to him.” 

 

“What?” Mark asked, looking around the lair. The hell did he know what was valuable in that cave. Everything there looked like what you'd find in a dumpster behind a museum. 

 

“If you don't mind, I'd like for that to be my secret for now.” Bael said, smirking a little. “I'll let Milo sweat over it for a few days. Let him know that I'm onto him, for me, will you?” He asked, shooting those mismatched eyes back in Mark's direction. 

 

“Sure thing.” Mark agreed, moving to pick up the book once more. “See you around.” He said, cheerful, looking back down to the tome as Bael apparently disappeared to whatever universe he’d popped out of. 

 

~~

 

“Oh. Fish.” Mark made a face when Milo came back, placing the fish he had caught for them on a nearby table.

 

Milo just shot him a look. “Were you expecting something more gourmand?”

 

Mark just snorted at that. “No. Fucking…. No.” He said, his arms crossing over his chest protectively once again. The man was at least ten feet away and he still felt uncomfortable with him being so close. “It’s not like I expected you to run out to the Wendy’s and grab me a chicken sandwich.” he mumbled bitterly. 

 

“At least I’m not making you prepare it.” Milo replied, dropping his knife down on the table beside his catch and setting to work. He listened to Mark rant for a moment before finally clearing his throat. “Mark…. I have no idea what you’re rambling about.” He said, a bit pointedly. 

 

“Yeah, I’ll bet you don’t.” Mark scoffed. “That’s what he said too.” 

 

Milo paused, knife in the air above the fish and stared at Mark long and hard as he processed what the man was telling him. “Who said?” he demanded. 

 

Mark blinked at Milo for a moment, his brain a little slow to catch up with him…. Until Milo began to make his way towards the bed Mark was camped out on and he began to panic a little. “Hey, s-stop!” He said, stuttering a little. “Your buddy Bael showed up, that’s all! Nothing happened!” he said, putting his hands up to try and ward off the other man. Unfortunately, that just seemed to propel the man towards him even faster. 

 

As Milo reached the side of the bed Mark slid across the bed to try and dismount on the other side. Once his feet hit the ground though, that pain from earlier only seemed to hit him again and Mark couldn’t help a groan, sinking to the floor, his own aches and weakness foiling his plan to escape. 

 

Before he could fully hit the ground though, Milo moved, unnaturally fast, catching him under his shoulder and kneeling beside him, effectively pulling Mark across his lap. 

 

“It’s alright.” Milo said first, and his voice was much calmer, much more soothing, and it eased some of the panic Mark was feeling. Some of it. “I’m not going to hurt you or be angry with you. I just need to know what happened.” he said. 

 

“Okay…” Mark drawled a little, unsure just how comforted he actually should be. “Because I mean. You’ve… actually hurt me before.” he pointed out. 

 

Milo leveled a look at him. “Okay, but barring that initial encounter…” he shook his head. “Look, never mind, just… tell me what happened. 

 

Mark didn’t like the way that was casually brushed off, but he supposed that could be a hurtle they conquer at a later time. “Some guy came by the secret villain lair you’ve got yourself here, called himself Bael, and we bantered for a bit, and he left.” he said. “Mentioned something about stealing something from you.” he added. “He wanted me to stress you out about that, specifically.” Mark added.

 

“Bael is no friend of mine. After he’s killed so many...” Milo stopped suddenly, seeming to realize his anger shouldn’t be displayed over his still very nervous mortal. “He spoke to you? What did he say?” Milo demanded. 

 

“He’s not your friend?” Mark demanded, shifting, uncomfortable still, being so close to the other man. “Well he was pretty fucking friendly. Nicer than you, anyways.” 

 

“He’s a fucking demon, that is literally what they do. They act nice, so they can lure you in, and fool you into doing what they want.” Milo told him firmly, and Mark snapped his mouth shut at the look Milo was giving him. “Did he touch you?” He asked. 

 

Mark shook his head at first…. But, then he remembered. “Wait… no, he did. He just… he was helping me, I got sick and I had to throw up.” He tried to explain. “He came over to help me, and he put me back to bed.” he said. 

 

“Where?” Milo asked, and his voice went from that firm tone to something almost…. Gentle. Concerned. It was all kinds of dizzying to Mark, He was still very afraid of this man, and he felt like he had whiplash from the changing moods. 

 

Mark slowly pointed to the area on his back that Bael had traced circles on earlier. He tried to point at it from over head, then shifted a little, rearranging his arms to point to the spot on his back.

 

Milo gently pulled him forward, examining the area on his back, and Mark couldn’t help biting his lip as Milo ran a hand over the area. 

 

“He left his brand.” Milo said, after a moment, and moved to brush his hand over his own forehead. He seemed frustrated… nervous… a sound escaped Milo that sounded almost… resigned.  

 

And the genuine concern and even fear on his face kind of shook Mark, right to his core. “If you’re stressed out over this…” He began, and couldn’t even bring himself to finish that sentence. 

 

“It’s bad.” Milo supplied, and he pulled back a bit. With an absurd gentility he slid his arms under Mark’s knees and lifted him up, placing him back on the bed. 

 

“How bad?” Mark asked, trying to turn his head to see whatever it was Bael had placed on him. Naturally he couldn’t see anything, and he gave it up pretty quickly.

 

“Fucking bad.” Milo continued, and he glanced away from Mark, seeming to try and think about what his next move was going to be. “That mark is his sigil.” He tried to explain. “It’s a promise that he’s going to come back for you, and…. And drag you down with him. To Hell.” 

 

“Me?” Mark replied, stunned, and quickly thought over his conversation with the man earlier, and he swore to himself. “Fuck. Oh fuck. That sly… oh god I’m so fucking stupid.” 

 

**_Well I did have something I wanted, but now that I've been here, I might have changed my mind. I think I've found something much more valuable to him._ **

 

And Mark told him he could just fucking take it, without ever realizing that Bael was referring to  _ him _ .

 

Milo nodded seriously, seeing that Mark finally understood just how dire this all was. “So long as you carry that mark on your skin he’s always going to know where you are.”

 

“Well get it off!” Mark demanded, completely freaked out over this whole thing now.  

 

“I can’t!” Milo said. “It’s nothing so simple as just a mark, or even a tattoo. I don’t have the ability to remove it, that kind of magic is beyond me. But… but I know someone who can.” He sighed a little, dragging a hand down over his face. “I’ll have to bring you to her…” He trailed off a bit, looking Mark over. 

 

“We can leave?” Mark asked, seeming hopeful. Fuck, he wanted out of there. Just the idea of where they were, where he was trapped, it got to him so hard. He hadn’t stopped feeling sick since Bael had mentioned it, and he knew it was all in his head but he felt dizzy, his lungs stuttered like he couldn’t breathe, and it had been nonstop since he found out where exactly he was. 

 

“We have no choice.” Milo told him, moving to stand. He glanced around the cave, and…. He actually seemed kind of melancholy for a moment. “I really did like this place.” he said. “But I guess that’s the end of it.”

 

“Really?” Mark asked. “You’re going to abandon this place? Everything in it?” 

 

“You’re what’s important.” Milo told him. 

 

Mark squirmed a little at that. “You don’t even know me.” he said, turning his head away. He didn’t understand any of this. Like, sure, the man had watched him for a very long time, for years, even. But he didn’t understand the attachment the man had to him.

 

“I picked you.” Milo began and Mark just shook his head.

 

“Okay, great, you find me hot. A lot of people do.” Mark said, shrugging. Milo’s face flinched in obvious jealousy, and yeah, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t find that at all satisfying. “A lot of people do. Name one other thing about me.” he challenged Milo. “Let me save you the embarrassment. You can’t. You don’t know what I like to eat.” he said, gesturing vaguely to the fish at the table. “You don’t know what I do for a living. And Bael could be the biggest fucking dick on the planet but he at least knew about that.” he pointed out to Milo. “You don’t even know if I’m gay, which, by the way, I’m not. I think at the most, I’ve only ever been a little bi-curious, but I’ve never acted on it, and now that this has literally been my first experience in that realm, I don’t even want to. If somehow I ever manage to get away from you and tried to live a normal life, I mean.” Mark sighed, moving to dig the palms of his hands into his eyes. His eyes were stinging in a way that was wholly unpleasant. “Even the sweetest, most well-intentioned guy. If he did everything right, courted me the old fashioned way, I don’t think I could, I could never…” He struggled with the words that were trying to come out now, between heaving breaths, and he was crying now, he couldn’t do anything to stop that. “It…. it should have been my choice. Mine. Who I give myself to, who I don’t. And you’ve taken that away from me, I don’t… I don’t think I could ever go through the act of sex again without thinking of this and just… just… feeling so weak, and vulnerable...”

 

He felt Milo’s hands on his shoulders and he dropped his arms into his lap, almost positive that all of that just fell on deaf ears. 

 

But then…. Milo surprised him. 

 

“I… didn’t mean to cause you such harm.” He said to Mark, voice softly. “Hard as it may be for you to believe.” 

 

“Yeah, it kind of is.” Mark admitted. But the more he thought about it, Milo was clearly from another time. Even Bael admitted that Milo’s people kind of romanticized stories like this, and true to form, he had that book to prove it.  _ The Rape of Ganymede _ . That wasn’t even the first time Zeus had kidnapped a mortal to have sex with, he apparently did it all the damn time, and he had children all over the place because of it. He never realized as a child that Hercules was the offspring of one those instances. He didn’t even realize how bad it was before. Even Zeus’ brothers got in on the act, like Hades and his queen Persephone. Some of the artists in that book went way out of their way to stress how this was not her choice, there was even some statue where she was hitting Hades right in the face, and yeah, right on sister. 

 

“If you’ll allow it, I’d like to try and make things right. If you’re willing to give me another chance.” Milo finally said, and it sounded to Mark like Milo had never been in this position before. Honestly, he probably hadn’t. 

 

“When was your last relationship?” Mark asked him curiously, and Milo’s face fell, shaking his head a little. 

 

“Mark don’t ask.” 

 

“Come on, please. Let’s just, talk, so I can better understand.” Mark tried. “When?”

 

Milo sighed a little, and seemed to purposely look away. “Nearly two hundred years ago.”    
  


“How did it end?” He asked. 

 

Milo tipped up his chin a little, glancing aside. “Bael killed her.” He said, shaking his head. 

 

Mark nodded, looking to Milo. It didn’t explain everything, but it helped, he thought. “Okay. I’ll give you another chance.” he said. “But there has to be ground rules.” 

 

“Fair enough.” Milo decided, and Mark at least found that encouraging. It made him feel like he was taking some of the power back in this relationship… not relationship. Whatever this was. He felt better being on more equal ground. 

 

“You don’t just start shit.” Mark said, pointing in Milo’s direction. “No touching, massaging, caressing, kissing, it has to be like, agreed upon. I’ve got to be feeling it too, because I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re kind of scary as hell, and…” He grit his teeth a little, because this kind of irritated him to admit, “stronger. A lot stronger than me. And I know you could just overpower me and just take whatever you want, but that’s not going to win you any of my affection.” He said. “It has to be mutually agreed upon.”

 

“Done.” Milo said simply. “I have a rule.” He put up there, and Mark kind of wanted to shoot it down because, well, he wasn’t done yet, and besides? Whoever said he got to make rules anyways, when Mark felt like he was the one that needed them, otherwise Milo could just do whatever the fuck he wanted. “For the next couple of days, while we’re figuring this out, I need you to listen to me. Very carefully. Do otherwise and he may kill you.” he said. 

 

“Really?” Mark asked, and Milo nodded. “It’s really that bad?” 

 

“It couldn’t be worse.” Milo told him. “But I don’t want you to fret unnecessarily. I’m going to do everything in my power to protect you.” he promised. 

 

“You’d better.” Mark said. “Don’t think I’m going to forget that I’m even in this mess in the first place because of you.”

 

“How could I when I’m certain you’ll be there to remind me at every opportunity.” Milo drawled a little, offering his hand to Mark. “Come on. I need to get you out of here.” 

 

Mark hesitated for a moment, before finally reaching out, and taking the other man’s hand. 

 

“So… where we going?” Mark asked, kind of feeling a little bit odd, talking about leaving, going out into the world within the next few minutes, and both of them just standing there, Mark leaning slightly against Milo for the support, and they were both still very, very naked.

 

“To my sister’s home, in Arizona.” Milo replied. “Removing these brands is her specialty.” 

 

“Great. Never thought I would ask this, but, can I get some pants before we go crashing your sister’s place?” Mark asked him. 

 

“We’ll stop at your place.” Milo promised him. “Then you can pack whatever you think you might need.”   

 

“Okay.” Mark agreed, and when Milo moved in to lift him into his arms, he just kind of went with it, he’d probably been in more embarrassing positions than the bridal one anyways. He slid his arms around Milo’s neck and just held on. “What’s your sister’s name?”

 

“Axiocersa.” Milo said, and Mark sighed, like honestly. How was he expected to keep saying these tongue twister names? “You can just call her Cersa.” Milo told him, seeming to sense his frustration. “I call her Cersa.” Milo said, shifting his hold on Mark a bit. “You might like her. She can be…. A lot. But she’s sweet.” 

 

“Oh, okay. Sweet’s good. I need sweet.” Mark said. “My poor, frayed nerves can’t handle anything else right now.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I actually live in SoCal, maybe about 40 minutes away from Los Angeles. (On a good traffic day, around 3am, usually.) And another fun fact, I fucking hate it here, lmao. I hate Los Angeles so much that when I had the opportunity to see Panic! at The Disco in Los Angeles (about an hour or so drive,) I said.... fuck that, and proceeded to get tickets to see them in Vegas instead. Four hours away. Actually, that's not even my worst concert story. I had the opportunity one time to see Alice Cooper in concert, and I could either A) see him in Los Angeles, or B) see him eight hours away in Tucson Arizona, and well, I drove to Tucson and back all in the same fucking day. Point being! So while I am indeed sort of aware of these areas that Mark would actually be living and commuting around in... I hope you don't mind if I just go ahead, and move the rest of this fic to Phoenix Arizona. It's nothing personal to the people of Los Angeles, I just, I can't. Los Angeles stresses me out. Lmao. 
> 
> I hope you all are enjoying Milo and Bael as much as I am, and I'm very excited for the next chapter. >:3 
> 
> I made a playlist for this fic, not that anyone listens to those. But I did, because when I have an opportunity to be extra, I've already kicked down the door and spread that extra all over the fucking place. You can find that shit here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLe3LomlisX1J5VQ50uCoHuOHfxceyK7rn It obviously contains spoilers. But then, if something happens and I don't get to finish this fic, you'll know how it ended, so, win win!


	3. Remix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one turned out extra long oops. Didn't mean to do that, necessarily, I just know I plotted out everything I wanted to happen in this chapter, and it took a bit longer than I thought it would. I have a bad habit of just letting my characters do what they want. *shrug* Please enjoy

The trip back was actually not as bad as Mark expected it to be. Once Milo took him to the black pond, the water just kind of swirled around them and they emerged, top side, on the beach, the waves pushing against them. Mark didn’t quite understand it, but he didn’t suffocate, get crushed to death or suffer from decompression sickness, so he supposed if that if he had to travel about the ocean, then yeah, that was the way to do it. It was dark, by now, no one out by the beach where he could actually see, though Mark could hear the distant traces of music somewhere, far off in the distance. Which was good, because he really didn’t need people staring at his naked ass while Milo carried him out of the ocean. 

 

He was feeling pretty uncomfortable, wet and damp, and fucking cold, besides, and he let his head drop against Milo’s shoulder as the man carried him off, who knew where. He just tried to steady his breathing and go with the flow. Eventually they ended up in what looked like an empty parking lot and… 

 

“You have a fucking car?” Mark demanded when one of them chirped and the trunk popped open. It was a really, really nice car too. It was a almost a dark green color, or maybe it was black, and Mark just couldn’t tell because of the poor lighting. Milo just kind of quirked a smile as he set Mark down beside it, so that he could reach into the trunk and… “Where the fuck were you keeping that key?” Was the next thought he had that he simply couldn’t keep to himself. Milo shot him a little bit of a look as he hauled out a fairly large duffel bag and began to shift through it. 

 

“Did you not see me grab it on our way out?” Milo asked him. 

 

“I absolutely saw you do no such thing.” Mark replied, crossing his arms over his chest, then down to kind of…. Sort of… shield his junk. It wasn’t gonna cover anything effectively, and he just kind of hoped they could get out of there before a cop saw them and then… well they were going to have a lot to explain that Mark was absolutely not going to do. Suddenly he got hit in the face with a shirt, and a pair of loose pants. 

 

“Oh. Well. That’s probably my fault, I did fuck the sense out of you earlier.” Milo replied with a bit of a smug look, and for the first time, Mark was kind of struck by the thought that this guy? Yeah, kind of good looking. Sort of. Not nearly as handsome as he was, of course. But passing. At least when he was human. 

 

“That’s not okay to joke about.” Mark told him. “I’m still dealing with… issues.. Over that.” Mark mumbled, as he looked at what Milo had effectively handed him. A Rob Zombie shirt and what looked like a pair of work out pants that looked way, way too big for him. Which made sense, he guessed. Milo was a lot taller than he was, and a little bit broader. Mark was just happy to have something to cover up with. When he glanced back Milo was already dressed, and he couldn’t help the snort that escaped him when he saw what Milo chose to wear. “Jesus Christ. Okay James Bond.” 

 

Milo raised an eyebrow in his direction. He was wearing a light grey suit jacket and a pair of neatly pressed pants, with a grey shirt with some kind of rock band on it, though the jacket covered most of it. So it wasn’t entirely James Bond, but it was close enough, he thought. He even had on a pair of what looked to Mark like driving gloves. Mark had never even seen anyone wearing gloves while driving. Milo tucked a loose strand of black hair behind his ear and moved to close the trunk, once Mark was dressed. 

 

“Don’t tell me you don’t get that reference.” Mark challenged him and Milo shrugged lightly. 

 

“I’ve read the books, but the movies are ridiculous, like most of the worthless media that trickles out of this town.” He answered, as he pulled up the keys and began to move towards the driver’s side. Mark only gave a second’s thought to his plan, reaching out for the arm that was holding the keys. 

 

“Seriously?” Mark snorted. “Are you kidding me. I’m dating a snot.” He said. Well, he wasn’t technically dating the guy, but he had agreed to give him another chance, but that didn’t mean he was ready to define their relationship in that way. He just didn’t really know how else to explain it either. Mark saw Milo almost snort in reply, before moving towards the driver’s side. Mark brought him up short.

 

“Hey, let me drive.” Mark said, and Milo gave him an almost appalled look. 

 

“No one drives my car.” and Mark shook his head, jerking the man’s arm again. 

 

“Hey, look here, dude who pretty much ruined my life and may yet get me killed.” Mark said, because oh yeah, he was going to ride that one into the ground for as long as it benefitted him. “Let me drive. You don’t know the way to my place unless you’re psychic, and I don’t think you are. Wait, are you?” Mark asked, not really knowing what all of Milo’s various skill sets were, and Milo eventually shook his head. 

 

“Okay then, it only makes sense. You let me drive to my house in the hot car, nicest car I’ve ever seen in person, and we’ll count that as part of your penance, alright?” He asked. 

 

Milo just sighed. Mark wasn’t sure that his little spiel had worked at first, he seemed to really be considering it. “You’re a good driver, right?” He asked, finally offering Mark the key, which he snatched up gleefully. 

 

“Oh yeah. The best driver. I’m so good and responsible. I’ll take good care of your baby.” Mark promised.    
  


“You’d better.” Milo replied drowly. “Just straight to your place, got it?” He said firmly. 

 

“Hey. I know what I’m doing.” Mark replied, as he pushed past Milo. The car doors opened themselves, sliding upwards and Mark actually grunted in pleasure when he saw it. It was so pointless to have a car that did that but he was fucking loving it. It made him think of the Delorean from  _ Back to the Future  _ and deep inside he thought that he was going to bust a nut before they even made it to the freeway. Milo would likely kill him for staining the seats but it would be so worth it. 

 

Sliding into the car against a buttery leather interior was just pure sex, he decided. He had a car, and it wasn’t the best, but it got him around the city without many problems. He’d looked into getting something a little nicer, now that some of that YouTube money was rolling in, but he hadn’t committed to anything yet. So far it seemed a lot more important to him to upgrade his equipment, investing back into the job he’d dedicated himself to. He didn’t think he could afford anything this nice yet, but it was definitely on his radar, now. 

 

Mark started the car and adjusted the radio, looking for something appropriate to drive with in this beast of a car. Eventually he thought he found something appropriate.

 

_ Generals gathered in their masses _

_ Just like witches at black masses _

_ Evil Minds that plot destruction _

_ Sorcerer of Death’s construction _

 

“Oh yeah. Oh **_hell_** yeah.” Mark grinned, feeling about the most cool he’d ever had in his entire life. He revved the engine and completely ignored the unsure look Milo was sending his way. 

 

~~

 

In the end, they had to take a forty minute detour. A ‘detour’ that just so happened to end up taking them down the Sunset Strip. Totally necessary, of course. Completely, totally necessary, just like winking at the group of girls standing on the corner outside the  _ Whisky a Go Go _ as he passed by. They giggled and laughed, waving back at him flirtatiously, and yeah, it was totally worth the frustrated look Milo was giving him. 

 

Once they pulled up to the driveway of his apartment, Milo snatched back the keys and shot Mark another look. “Never again.” he decided, as he slid out of the car. 

 

“Worth it.” Mark replied with a grin, as he moved out on his side. 

 

Thanks to Milo Mark didn’t have his own keys anymore, his car and Chica, (which Mark was still quietly fuming about, by the way) all abandoned on that godforsaken beach. Fortunately, he kept a spare key under a fake rock close to his front door. He retrieved that, thankful he wouldn’t have to resort to breaking a window, or something else that his landlord wouldn’t approve of, and went to the door. He paused just long enough to pluck a note off the door that someone had left there. 

 

_ Hey, we found your pup! We came to your place to drop her off but no one was home. She’s fine staying with our family for a while. If you decide you don’t want her back, that’s fine too, our two kids  _ **_LOVE_ ** _ her! :) Give us a call at the number attached below.  _

 

Mark tucked the note into his pocket, relieved that Chica wasn’t just alone, out there somewhere. Before he did anything else, he was going to have to take care of that. Chica was like his daughter, and he considered her care foremost over his own. He opened the door and pushed it open. 

 

There was a charged air as he entered his home. He’d only been gone for a few hours, but it felt like it had been days. It almost felt alien to him. For some reason it just kind of struck him as sad. This was his place. His. He came out to this coast and put it together for himself. And now he couldn’t even stay, he had some demon bitch tramp stamp to take care of. This life that he’d created had all just been stolen from in, in the span of a single day. It was fucked up. 

 

He sighed and dropped his keys into a bowl next to the front door and began to head into the kitchen, where the land line phone was. Who knew where in the hell his cell phone was, but fortunately, his land lord insisted on his tenants having these land line phones, so he actually did have a way to contact the sweet people who’d picked up his dog for him. 

 

Milo had been so quiet that Mark had almost forgotten that he was there, tagging along, until he felt the man’s gentle hand caress his elbow. “You seem preoccupied.” he noted. 

 

“Yeah.” Mark said, sighing again, running a hand through his hair. “I just… I need to make a few phone calls...” he asked. “How long do you think this is all going to take, anyways?” He asked. 

 

“I can’t be certain.” Milo replied, gently. “I’m not sure what it’s going to take for us to get Bael to back down off of you.” 

 

“Can we…” Mark paused, trying to figure a way out. “Is he ever going to do that, though? Or am I just going to have to be in hiding, forever?” he asked, and the look Milo gave him kind of answered his question. “Or can we kill him?” Mark ventured, even though that idea didn’t much appeal to him, either. It wasn’t something he ever thought he could do, take another person’s life, even if he was an immortal demon bastard who wanted to kill him. 

 

“No, generally that just makes him mad.” Milo replied, and Mark felt his shoulders drop. 

 

“Well what the hell are we supposed to do then? I can’t just go into hiding and keep a low profile forever, I have a job that kind of prevents that sort of thing.” Mark told him. “I could get recognized by someone and they could just tell the internet and it would be over.” 

 

“Well, Cersa may have a few ideas about that. The whole binding, cleansing of evil spirits thing was always her forte.” Milo told Mark. 

 

“And not yours?” Mark asked, just out of curiosity. 

 

“No, I was always more at home in my element. I like to keep close to the source of my power. Our kind are not so different from mortals, we all have our own talents.” Milo explained. 

 

“So… you can control what, the ocean?” Mark asked.

 

“Water.” Milo clarified for him. 

 

“Ah.” Mark replied. “Then why are we heading into a desert?” he thought he was justified in asking. “Because that seems as far away from the source of your power as we can get.” he said. 

 

Milo shot him a smirk, and didn’t answer right away. Mark just rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine.” Mark replied. “Keep your secrets. But maybe do me a favor.” he said. “I have stuff to take care of before I can go, do you think you can maybe, go upstairs to my bedroom, grab some clothes for me to put on? Toothbrush, deodorant… couple of razors, maybe.” he said, brushing a hand over the five o’clock shadow he was sporting. “Whatever you think I’m going to need for this… excursion.” He said. “I have a backpack in the closet, you can shove everything in there.” 

 

“I can do that for you.” Milo agreed. “Don’t leave the house or anything. I already locked us in but, obviously that’s not going to be much of a deterrent.” He said, and Mark nodded. 

 

“So what do I do if something does happen?” Mark asked. 

 

“Let me handle it.” Milo told him seriously. “I don’t want you trying to fight him or doing anything foolish like that. Just make sure you’re in a safe place, and leave the fighting to me.” 

 

“Got it.” Mark replied drily. He could do that, maybe. He’d played enough horror games to sort of understand how that goes. As Milo turned to head upstairs Mark leaned against the kitchen counter, picking up the phone. He called the family that was pet-sitting Chica first. They were friendly enough, but they seemed a little wary too, about returning a sweet dog like her to an owner who had possibly abandoned her. And he could understand that. He’d be a little wary too, if he’d rescued a dog who’s owner had just up and disappeared. So he told them the truth… well, for the most part. He told them he’d gotten mugged while he was on the beach and that Chica had gotten away from him. He also said that he wouldn’t be able to properly care for her for a few days while he was healing, and asked if they’d mind continuing to look after her, which they seemed very happy to do, especially the couple’s two kids. At the end of the conversation Mark promised he’d have ‘a friend’ leave some of Chica’s food and her favorite toys on the front porch, so that they wouldn’t have to spend their own money on her. 

 

With that squared away, he figured he ought to tell  _ somebody _ who cared about him that he was going to be disappearing for a few days. Or… longer, maybe. In the end he realized there really only was one person he knew he should call, above everyone else. He picked up the phone and dialed the number, having resigned it to his memory long ago. Despite it being incredibly late in the night for her it only rang twice before she answered.

 

“Hey mom.”

 

~~

 

He hadn't expected to break down during that conversation but she was a lot more in tune to when he was in trouble than he had expected. She had even asked if he needed to come home, which was sweet, but there was no way he could go home while this was going on. And when she asked how long he was going to be gone he couldn’t even give her an answer. He didn’t know. He didn't like not being able to explain to her what was going on, avoiding questions to the point of outright lying. It just didn't sit right with him. Worse was the fact that when they said goodbye it just kind of felt final to him. He really hoped that wouldn't be the case,  but with things being so uncertain…

 

The whole conversation had just kind of wrung him out. If he’d had any choice in the matter, he probably would have just gone upstairs to his room and gone to bed. 

 

With that done he decided he needed to go and set Chica's food on the front porch. Milo was still fucking around upstairs, so Mark figured he had a few minutes to get things set up. He was maybe, technically breaking that whole rule about remaining in the house, but he figured it was only going to be a couple seconds. His baby needed to be taken care of. 

 

He gathered a few if her toys and one of the giant bags of dog food that he kept in the kitchen and moved to take it all outside.

 

The whole damn street seemed pretty inactive when he went out there, leaving the front door open so he didn't have to worry about unlocking everything when he headed back in. He ignored it at first, making sure that everything Chica needed was available for her, but when he stood to head back in he paused, taking in the scene. Usually there were a few people loitering outside after hours, coming home from late shifts or getting ready to go to early morning ones. There were cars moving up and down the street, granted, not as frequently during the night. Dogs barked. Insects made noise. The wind rustled leaves, and in Southern California the wind was always in motion. But right then, Mark felt like he was in a void. It was just way too quiet, and it made him feel uneasy. 

 

Then he heard the front door abruptly swing closed. He whipped around just in time to hear the lock set in place, leaving him outside and alone, breaking Milo's one rule. 

 

“Fuck me.” He cursed.

 

“I'm your huckleberry.”

 

Suddenly Mark was grabbed, pulled quickly back against a broad chest, a large hand covering his mouth. He didn't even have the chance to make a noise, scream Milo's name or anything. Mark tried to push at the man holding him, but he couldn't even budge him an inch, and the realization made his heart beat faster in a panic. He couldn’t just struggle away, he was caught. 

 

“Fuck, that was easier than i thought it was going to be.” Bael mentioned, his other hand tightening around Mark's bicep where he was holding him. Mark grunted, squirming against the other man's hold. 

 

“I'm kind of disappointed, actually.” Bael added, looking over his prisoner. “I wasn't even going to take you anywhere tonight, I just wanted to scare the shit out of your boyfriend.” Bael admitted. “Hey.” He said, sliding his hand down from Mark's mouth and grasping his throat instead. Mark stilled at the gentle pressure. It wasn't a suffocating hold by any means, but the threat was definitely there, and definitely being implied. Bael's thumb brushed teasingly along the side of his neck, tracing an important artery and further guiding that threat home.

 

“Do me a favor, Mark.” Bael said. “Call him.”

 

And Mark, naturally knew what he had to say about that. “Fuck you.”

 

“Oh come on.” Bael said, his other hand moving from his arm to brush along Mark's chest, rubbing over the fabric of the shirt he was wearing, sliding over his stomach to the hem and pushing up the fabric there, freely feeling up whatever he damn well pleased. Mark tried to grab the man’s wrist, trying to pry it away from his body, but he was just too strong. He started to tremble when the man just up and pinched one of his nipples. “I can do this all fucking day. Save yourself the trauma, Mark, call Milo down here.”

 

Mark shook his head tightly. Fuck he could not do this again, not so soon after the last time. He was just beginning to think that he could heal from the last one, if Bael kept pushing things…

 

Bael's hand toyed with his chest for a few minutes, leaving behind a few scratches that broke the skin. Mark shivered but he stayed quiet. He wasn't going to give this bastard anything he wanted, if he could help it. It wasn't until the man's hand began to move down to his crotch, moving down and over his groin that his resolve finally broke.

 

“Milo!” Mark called out, tears escaping him despite his eyes being tightly squeezed closed. 

 

“Ah, good job, boy.” Bael praised, pulling his hand back up to press on his stomach, holding him possessively. Mark was panting softly, trying to fend off another panic attack. 

 

Suddenly the ground seemed to move underneath him. Mark opened his eyes in time to see what looked like water gushing up from the ground, reducing the soil to mud. Cement near the two of then began to shudder and crack, breaking apart. Mark suddenly began to sink into the ground, inadvertently breaking out of Bael's hold as the two men stumbled to catch their balance, and not be sucked under. Mark tried to move forward and accidentally pitched himself forward, towards a floating piece of concrete near by. He yelped, thinking he was about to crack his head open on it…

 

Then he was suddenly pulled up, and settled safely against Milo's chest. Milo had his arm wrapped around Mark's waist, letting the other man lean against him as he just seemed to watch the chaos unfold. Naturally, Milo seemed to have no trouble walking across the silt and debris that used to be Mark's front yard. Bael was having a much harder time. The more he struggled the further he seemed to sink into the mud. 

 

After a moment, Bael stopped fighting it, just dropping his hands against the soil, and giving Milo a look that chilled Mark to the bone, and he felt himself pressing closer to Milo despite himself. He didn’t like relying on the other man so much for his protection, but right then he felt like he had no other choice. 

 

Then… Bael just laughed. 

 

“Cute parlor trick.” Bael told him. He then brought his hands together and… clapped. The ground stopped moving, but Mark was sure he could still hear the earth rumbling in the distance. He had sort of an idea of what the hell had just happened, but he didn’t think Milo would appreciate much being called ‘the God of Fracking.’ 

 

“The hell are you doing here?” Milo demanded, ignoring the man's grandstanding. 

 

“Well I thought that would have been obvious.” Bael replied. “I'm checking in on my property, since you decided to just take a few liberties and move him out of that fucking cave.” Bael said.

 

Milo levelled Bael with an angry look. “Your property?” He asked.

 

“Yeah, mine, my fucking name is on him, ain't it?” He said, pushing himself up and out of the ground. Mark chewed his cheek as he examined their surroundings. He didn't know if Milo had anything else planned, because that thing with the liquefaction Milo did seemed to be over with. He thought that the ground was already starting to dry up. He really hoped that Milo had something else up his sleeve, because otherwise…

 

He cringed as Bael began to move towards them, turning slightly in Milo's hold on him. He almost panicked for nothing. There was a sound of metal slicing through the air and suddenly Milo had a long, black blade pressed against Bael's chin, forcing the other man to keep his head tilted up to keep from cutting himself. 

 

“I recognize no such thing.” Milo told him, drawing a broad grin from the demon. 

 

“I could take him right now if i wanted.” Milo warned him. “Do you really think you could stop me? You can't fight the power of that spell. In three days, I'm taking Mark with me back to hell.” Bael warned. “I think he'll make a great addition to my harem, don't you?” He purred, and the silken way he said it drew a nervous breath out of Mark. “The others have gotten a little lazy, some fresh blood in there usually gets things moving, especially when they know one of them is about to get tossed into the pit.” He grinned viciously. 

 

Milo growled low, his grip on Mark tightening ever so slightly. 

 

“I'll bet Mark's a screamer, too.”

 

That got a howl of rage out of Milo, and he tried to attack the other man, gently placing Mark behind him so he could move but, Bael just up and disappeared. Milo kept a hand on Mark's arm as he looked for the demon. 

 

“Fucking shit…” Mark breathed out, too terrified to move. “Milo?” 

 

“He's still here.” Milo replied, suddenly whipping Mark around when he heard the laughter echoing from behind the both of them. “I'll fucking kill you before you can lay another hand on him!” Milo shouted. 

 

“Oh, please do. Dying isn't so bad.” Bael cackled. “I'll be back in a few weeks and we can party all over again. You down? I'm down.” Bael said. “Oh. And by the way. Remember Emma? She says ‘hi.’” 

 

Milo pulled away from Mark's side and suddenly ran his blade through Bael's stomach. Mark covered his mouth, watching fretfully, Milo was almost unrecognizable with the snarl contorting his face. And Bael? Didn't even seem fazed.

 

“Shit.” Bael replied. He licked his lips in a slow, exaggerated manner. “That one hit a nerve, didn't it?”

 

“Go back to your cursed realm, you damnable cretin.” Milo hissed.

 

“Naw.” Bael replied, reaching out and abruptly shoving Milo back a few steps. There was a sound when he did it that made Mark think of a charged wire falling into a puddle, and his hands light up slightly. That nasty, long blade dripped black blood as it was dislodged from him. “I still got business here.” He said, picking up his shirt and getting a look at the injury Milo had left him. As Mark watched, it began to close up right in front of them, and Mark couldn't help but curse inwardly. That same blow would have laid him out for weeks. For Bael it was nothing. 

 

“I need to start wearing red shirts.” Bael shrugged, looking back to Milo. “See you in a few days, dipshit.” Bael replied, before sending his glance back to Mark. “You're probably going to want to lube yourself up before we go. Not bragging or anything, but I'm pretty big, baby.” He said. Shooting Mark a lewd wink. “Don't get too excited.”

 

Mark just shuddered at the thought. 

 

Bael disappeared again, and this time, Mark figured for sure that the man was gone. It was like life resumed in his small part of the city, animals making noise again, and the general hum of city life continuing as normal. Even still, Mark was almost too scared to make a move, like Bael was going pop out of the nearest bush and grab him again. Milo moved first, not saying anything right away. He brushed his blade over the grass first, removing the blood from it. Mark watched as that area began to steam up, water sizzling like it had just induced a chemical reaction from mixing with that tainted gore. 

 

Afterwards, Milo tucked the blade back wherever he was hiding it, then looked back to Mark expectantly. 

 

Mark raised his hands up. “Okay, that one…. Might have been my bad.” he said. 

 

“Yeah, no shit.” Milo said, and he stormed up to Mark, grabbing him by the bicep and tugging him in. “What was the point of those ground rules if you weren’t going to follow them?” he demanded. 

 

“Whoa, whoa whoa.” Mark said, pushing back on Milo’s chest a little. “The ground rules were for you, because you fucked up.” Mark told him firmly. “You fucked up when you forced the issue and you made me uncomfortable just being around you.” he said. 

 

“My rule was to keep you safe from further harm.” Milo replied. “Why does your rule take precedence over mine?” 

 

Mark glared at him. “Because your fuck up was the initial fuck up. Like, okay, I fucked up this time, but, but that’s nothing compared to your fuck up.” 

 

Milo gave him a look. “Right, and to fix that one we just had to have a minor earthquake, causing liquefaction, localized entirely in your front yard. But you’re leaving, so it doesn’t really affect you, but everyone else in the neighborhood?” Milo asked, and, as if on cue, the earth began to rumble again around them. “So much for keeping a low profile, by the way.” he said. 

 

“Yeah, well that just means I’m probably not getting the deposit back on this place, so I consider that still your fault.” Mark replied, trying to find his footing as the first waves of the quake finally hit them. He hunched down, trying to keep from getting pitched around.

 

“Fine, you know what? The hell with both rules.” Milo decided. He reached out grabbing a hold of both of Mark’s arms, tugging him in sharply and slamming their lips together in a stinging kiss. Mark stiffened up for a moment, but it was only for a moment. He didn’t know how to think or feel right then. He was a mess of emotions right then, angry, stressed, scared. His body reacted without him, his hand reaching out and gripping the other man’s jacket very, very tightly. Tugging him in, maybe? Some of that anger and stress drained out of him as the kiss went on, and when it was over Mark sagged, leaning into the other man’s arms. Milo just kind of held him, supporting him through the rumbling as the earth settled back down around them. 

 

“We might still need the rules, though.” Mark said, voice very small, as his mind struggled to make sense of everything. He just felt so tired, though, and he closed his eyes, resting his head against the taller man’s chest.

 

“Yes.” Milo agreed after a moment, kind of surprising Mark, after he’d basically just said to fuck the rules. “Are you going to hold this one against me too?” He asked, after a moment, and Mark thought he sounded tired too. He wondered if some of that was exertion, from whatever trick he pulled with the groundwater around here. He clearly shifted something, considering the gradually residing aftershocks. 

 

“No.” Mark answered after a moment. “No. I should. But no.” he shook his head a little. “I mean I guess you did technically save my life. So you should probably get one free pass.” He decided. 

 

“I’ll take it.” Milo replied, just holding onto Mark, his hold very gentle. “Now let’s get you into something clean, we have a long drive ahead of us.” 

 

“Yeah.” Mark agreed. “You drive this time.” he decided. “I’m taking a nap.” he decided, as he gently disengaged and made his way back to the house. 

 

~~

 

Mark was knocked out for most of the drive to Arizona. He had no idea how much sleep Milo actually needed, but he didn’t seem all that out of it when they finally rolled into the gravel driveway of what he assumed was Cersa’s house. It was actually the crunch of the tires into the gravel that woke him, just from being different from the repetitive slamming of rubber on pavement. Mark put the seat up and and stretched out a bit. He was a little bit achey, the kind of sore you feel when you're on your side in the front seat of a car for six hours, but, he knew he could probably walk that off. The rest of him was beginning to feel better though, and that was a bit more surprising to him. The virgin sex pains that had been bothering him were all but gone and he didn't think he could chalk it all up to the two tylenol he took before they left California. He was still incredibly tired though, and he thought if he could, if Milo would let him, he supposed, he probably could just fall back asleep.

 

“How are you feeling?” Milo asked, as he unbuckled himself, preparing to leave the car. 

 

“Like I could use another six hour nap.” Mark just went ahead and admitted. 

 

“I can imagine.” Milo told him, nodding. “Once we're done here, and I get you someplace safe, I'll let you rest.” He promised. 

 

“Great.” Mark mumbled, and began to make his way out of the car too.

 

Mark had only ever flown over Arizona before, but Milo's sister had quite the sprawling property. It was beautiful, too. There was no grass or anything, just dirt and a lot of white rocks kind of outlining a path for them to take. The landscape was dotted with a few cactuses of various sizes, which was really alien to someone who’d never seen them before, and he kind of immediately decided he loved it. It still wasn’t even that hot out, yet, it being still kind of early in the morning. 

 

Cersa’s house was sitting in the middle of the property, with no real fences bordering it that he could see. One lone house sitting at the end of a gravel path with the backdrop of the mountains way out in the distance. It really made him think of some of those ranch houses he’d see on the occasional instances he had to drive out to the IE, with nothing to separate the front of the house to the back of the house. It was really different and kind of nice. And while he was certain it wouldn’t last, it was kind of calm, there, almost serene. 

 

Milo approached the door and knocked three times. There was a few seconds of quiet, followed by a loud crashing noise that, god help him, made Mark jump. He couldn’t help it, he was pretty high strung lately. Milo’s head jerked towards him immediately, and Mark realized that maybe he wasn’t the only one. He could hear inside a woman cursing, before the movement quickly approached the door and…

 

“Kaz!” the young woman bellowed as the door swung open. She crossed the threshold and leapt into her brother’s arms, happy to see him. She was, he immediately noticed, kind of strange looking. If there was a style Mark could attribute to Cersa, he thought he could call it vaguely pastel goth. She had long blonde hair that dipped below her shoulders in ringlets of various shades of pink and purple. She was wearing an off the shoulder yellow sweater with an image of a unicorn stabbing a very unfortunate stick figure with its horn, which he thought was lovely, of course. She had on a pair of black denim short shorts, and had on two different pairs of socks, which Mark could appreciate because yeah. He’d been there.

 

“Cersa.” Milo laughed a little, catching her in the hug. “Hey, I’d like to introduce you to-”

 

“Oh shit.” Cersa said, suddenly shoving her brother away and turning to Mark. She leaned up against the door way and…. Well posed. In a very flirtatious and dare he say, sexy sort of way. The wink she shot him after made it very obvious that she was flirting. “Hey handsome.” She said.

 

Mark’s brain short circuited for a second and responded the only way he could think to. “Uh… hey.” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. He hoped he was looking efficiently cool and masculine. He always felt a little awkward in situations like this, but hey, she was pretty cute...

 

“Cersa.” Milo responded, climbing back up onto the patio… and Mark was just realizing that Cersa had thrown her brother super far away. “No. He’s taken.” 

 

“Like that’s stopped me before?” Cersa asked, not even bothering to look back at her brother when he said it. 

 

“Yeah… to me.” Milo responded, and Cersa’s face fell. 

 

“Oh…. yeah I guess that does kill the lady boner.” She sighed a little, stepping back into the house. “Well, come in anyways, I guess.” 

 

Mark raised an eyebrow as Milo came back, gently placing a hand on his back and guiding him into the house. “You shut that shit down fast.” Mark noted with a grin. 

 

“If I hadn’t she’d be on your dick in about five minutes.” Milo replied, as closed the door behind him.

 

“What really?” Mark asked, looking marginally uncomfortable at that information. 

 

“Really.” Milo replied, as he guided Mark to the living room.

 

She had it decorated in light colors, similar to how she was dressed. She seemed to really like cute things, and had a variety of pillows in various shapes and sizes. Mostly cats, he noted, and speaking of, there was a black cat sitting in the center of the white couch in the room, napping contentedly. Finally, someone Mark thought he could relate to. He loved animals, though he was more of a dog person, he liked cats too. He took a seat near to the cat, thinking that Milo was trying to direct him towards the couch anyways. The sweet kitty perked up a bit when he sat down, brushing a paw over his knee and falling immediately back asleep, purring contentedly when he ran a hand over its silken fur. 

 

“So what brings you guys?” Cersa asked cheerfully, as she entered the room. “You finally settling down? Gonna have a pack of kids like mom always wanted, so you decided to see your resident fertility goddess?” She asked.

 

“Fertility?” Mark asked, shooting a look over to Milo, who was hovering closeby, always protectively stationed close to Mark. 

 

“I am a goddess of purification rituals and fertility.” She answered Mark. “Though, people usually just see me for the fertility part these days.” She said. “You look young and healthy, I could probably make you a womb.” She offered Mark. “Then you could have a billion kids with my brother, and mom would finally be happy.” She said, looking to Milo with a smile. “She’s always wanted grandchildren but I fucking hate kids, so it’s all on you, Kaz.” 

 

“I…” Mark paused, not knowing what to say, to any of this. “First of all, I’m not… I’m not having anyone’s babies, that sounds…. Fuck, just no.” he said. “Second, you’re a fertility goddess who hates kids?” he asked. 

 

“Okay, hate is a strong word.” Cersa admitted. “But I can tolerate them a fair amount, right before giving them back to their parents. I guess they’re kind of cute, in a way that a cute handbag or tiny dog can make an outfit come together.” She said with a sharp nod. 

 

“Cersa, don’t freak out my boyfriend.” Milo replied. “We’re not here for the fertility goddess racket.”

 

Cersa shot him a look. “Are…. you here because you’re in some kind of trouble?” She asked him then. 

 

“You could say that.” Milo replied, inclining his head. “It’s…. We’re trying to deal with a curse. Bael…”

 

“....oh my god. Is he still picking on you?” Cersa asked, inclining her head to the side. “I would have thought after the last time… I mean, I thought it was over. It should have been over.” She said.

 

Milo made a bit of a face at that. “Yeah.” he said simply, and Cersa shook her head. 

 

“So what did he do now?” she asked. 

 

“Well…” Milo said, gesturing sort of vaguely in Mark’s direction. “He put his sigil on Mark.” He said. 

 

“What…. Really?” She asked, looking back to Mark with a bit more interest, once again. “One of those ‘drag you to hell’ dealios with the pentagram?” She asked, and Milo nodded. “Oh fuck.” She said, looking excited again. “So what you need is a purification spell.” she said. “Christ, no one’s asked me to do one of those since the 80s.” She said, looking to Mark.

 

Mark kind of squirmed at the look she was giving him, like she was going to suddenly unhinge her jaw and devour him whole. 

 

“Yeah, I knew you’d have fun with that.” Milo replied, as he began to shed his jacket and oddly, his shirt. “Do what you need to do, I’m going to be… doing things.” he said. 

 

“Wait, hold on.” Mark requested, looking back to Milo. “You’re leaving?” 

 

“I’m not leaving. But Cersa’s got this, and I have business I need to attend to.” Milo said. “Cersa, where’s your toolbox?” Milo requested.

 

“In the library.” Cersa answered. “On the top shelf with all those books you gave me that I’m never going to read.” She told him unabashedly.

 

“Got it.” Milo replied, as he turned to leave the room. 

 

Mark glanced to Cersa, before looking back to Milo. “You’re not even going to stay and… watch?” He asked. 

 

“No, why should I?” Milo asked. “Cersa knows what she’s doing, and I really have work to do.” he said. 

 

“What…. Work, are you doing, that could possibly be more important than this?” Mark demanded, because honestly, he just, really, really didn’t want to be left alone with Cersa. And this whole thing was playing hell with his nerves and okay, yeah, he was being needy, but goddammit, he thought after everything he’d been through in the past 24 hours he was allowed to be. 

 

“Mark.” Milo said, in that deep, kind of soothing voice that he had. “It’s going to be okay. I promise you.” he said. “I wouldn’t leave you alone with anyone I didn’t trust with my life.” he said. 

 

“I know.” Mark replied. “I know, but… please.” he said, his voice growing quiet, and yeah, sort of desperate, but again, he’d just been through a hell of a lot of trauma, and he was getting used to having the other man’s protection.

 

Milo chewed his bottom lip for a moment. “How about this.” he said. “I’ll hurry, and come right back, okay?” He said. 

 

“Okay.” Mark replied, a bit faintly, watching as Milo turned to leave the room. 

 

Mark turned back to Cersa who was now standing. “Okay, don’t worry about a thing.” She told him. “I just need you to take off your jacket and your shirt.” She said. “And your pants.” She said. 

 

Mark blinked. “Why the pants?” he asked. 

 

“You trying to tell me how to do my job?” Cersa demanded. “Relax, it’s so I can see the whole brand. He usually puts it in the tramp stamp area, amirite?” She asked him. 

 

“Yeah… I guess that makes sense.” Mark replied as he moved to stand. She did seem to already know about the placement, so, it kind of made sense. He still didn’t necessarily trust her, but fuck, what did he know? Maybe she was being entirely serious. He slowly stood and began shedding clothing, turning away from Cersa because with her watching It made him feel really uncomfortable. 

 

“Hey.” Mark said, as he got undressed, and to kind of take the focus off of him getting naked. “How did this whole thing with Bael start, anyways?” He asked.

 

“Oh. It’s been going on for something like…. Four…. Thousand years?” She put out there. “I’m not sure. But me and Bael used to date.” She said, and Mark paused, turning to look at her. 

 

“What?” he demanded, and she shrugged. 

 

“Look, he was super hot back then. He had a beard. It was kind of like dating the bad boy because you knew your parents would disapprove.” Cersa shrugged a little. 

 

“Dare I ask why it didn’t work out?” Mark asked her. 

 

“Oh, well I found out about his stupid boy harem in the underworld.I guess he’s like a prince or something down there. Anyhow, that bitch had been collecting pretty boys for this harem for years, and when he was done with them he’d send them off to be tormented for all eternity.” She said. And he thought he was going to date me, and keep his sixty-six sex slaves too.” She shook her head. “So I told him it was either me or the harem, and well. Obviously, he chose poorly.” he said. 

 

“Obviously.” Mark said, and he had a feeling that he understood what Bael had in store for him, if he actually succeeded at his plan. That really didn’t make him feel any kind of good. “So how did Milo get involved?” he asked. 

 

“Milo?” Cersa asked. “Why is he Milo? That sounds like a dog’s name.”

 

“I… yeah, I got it.” Mark replied with a grimace. “You call him Kaz?” He asked. 

  
“Yeah, but I don’t know that he necessarily likes it. I guess I never put much thought into it. He’s just Kaz, my little bro.” She said to him. “He just kind of got drawn into it after that. Bael knows how to instigate fights, and Kaz never knew how to ignore it. You know how men are. So I think it all started out pretty timidly. Bael would tease him about me, and Kaz would feel the need to defend me, even though I can obviously take care of myself.” She shrugged a little. “And over the years things just continued to escalate. And I kept getting sucked into it!” She shook her head. “Eventually I told them both to solve their own problems and just leave me out of it. And yet, here I am…” She said. 

 

Once he had pushed his pants down he felt her hand on his back, just above the brand. He froze where he stood, as she traced the pattern that was left behind. 

 

“Oh fuck.” She whispered, and Mark felt that chill run down his spine again. This side of Cersa was very different from the playful, flirtatious girl she’d been before. This side of her was entirely serious. 

 

“What is it?” Mark asked, turning slightly so that he could see the look on her face. 

 

“Well…” Cersa began to reply, before dragging a finger down along his spine. “He was uh…. He was pretty thorough with this one.” She tried to explain. “Signed his name and what he’s gonna do to you and everything.” She said, humming softly. 

 

“Do I want to know?” Mark asked. 

 

“Probably not, but it’s all written out in really archaic latin.” Cersa shrugged. “You won’t be able to translate. Have you seen it yet? Do you want to?” She asked. 

 

“Sure. What the hell.” Mark said, and he watched as Cersa fished a cell phone out of her pocket. “Wait how come…. How do you… have a cell phone?” He asked. Milo sure as shit didn’t have one.

 

“Yeah, it’s called I saved up my big girl monies, walked into the apple store, and bought one.” She responded, as he held it up to the mark on his back. “Kaz just hates technology like it murdered our father.” 

 

“But he has a car.” Mark pointed out. “An outrageously nice one.” he said. “With technology.” he added. 

 

“Yeah, well, he also has a penis, I thought that explained it.” She said, as she messed around a bit with the picture she just took. 

 

“Yeah, don’t remind me.” Mark replied, turning around a bit so he could see the picture. 

 

“Ah, he’s already acquainted you with his dipstick, eh?” Cersa asked him with a grin. 

 

“Just…. Let me see the pic.” Mark requested, and she obligingly offered him her phone. 

 

The brand in question looked suitably demonic to him, with a pentagram and some letters that looked very ancient and Cersa was right, he couldn’t translate them. Not that he needed to, the arrow that was fancily drawn, and pointing down to his asscrack made things very, very clear, what Bael intended to do. “Fucking asshole.” Mark muttered, handing Cersa back her phone. 

 

“Yeah, I thought the arrow was pretty cheeky too. No pun intended.” Cersa replied, and Mark snorted in reply. 

 

“But you can fix this, right?” Mark asked, and Cersa made a bit of a face.

 

“Yeah, let me, uh, let me get my brother back in here and we’ll talk about it.” Cersa said, in a way that really didn’t make Mark feel any kind of better. “Kaz, get in here and listen to my diagnosis!” She called, moving towards the entrance of the living room. She placed her hands on the door frame, poking her head out. “The fuck are you doing, anyways?” She asked. 

 

“Don’t worry about it.” Mark heard Milo call back. After a moment, Milo rejoined them in the living room, and he paused in the doorway, seeing Mark’s current state of undress. He shot Cersa a look.

 

“Hey, the shirt was necessary.” She told him. “The pants were because I was curious.” She said. 

 

“Oh fuck you.” Mark put in, he knew he shouldn’t have stripped down to his civvies. She smirked a little. 

 

“Hey, it was a lucky guess, I did need to see the ‘fuck me’ arrow you know?” She said.

 

“Yeah I’ll bet you did.” Mark continued to complain, as Milo came and offered him some protection, just with his presence. Mark pointedly did not hide behind him, but he also might have slid behind him somewhat. 

 

“Okay.” Cersa said after a moment, once she was certain she had the attention of both men. “So… Bael did this thing up pretty good.” She said. “The magic is actually kind of attached to his spine.” She explained. 

 

“Meaning…?” Milo questioned. 

 

“Meaning that I can remove it, but there’s a pretty strong risk of…. You know…” She said, growing a bit more awkward as she tried to find a way to deliver the bad news. “But it’ll probably leave him paralyzed. From the waist down. Forever.” She finally said. 

 

“What?” Mark cut in, suddenly feeling dizzy. Milo looked back, taking Mark’s hand and just…. Holding it. It was comforting, sort of, but Mark was still feeling very panicked at the idea. 

 

“What’s the other option?” He asked his sister, and she smiled softly. 

 

“I can redirect it.” She said. “Take the power from Bael and attach it to someone else.” She said. “Then they can have the GPS locator spell, and it’ll be a lot more difficult for Bael to sink his teeth in and drag you to hell. You’ll be bound on this plane with whoever the spell is attached to.” She said. “Do you have a favorite god?” She asked him. 

 

“Ah. Favorite god?” Mark asked, and Milo shook his head. 

 

“This is all still kind of new to him, let’s not attach him to a god he hasn’t met personally yet.” Milo told his sister. “Just attach it to you. I wouldn’t know how to use the spell anyways.” Milo told her. 

 

“Really?” Cersa asked, looking excited. “Oooh, I’ve never had anything like that attached to me. That’s exciting.” She said to him. 

 

“Yeah, well, don’t be too excited, I don’t want you scaring him.” Milo said, gently squeezing Mark’s hand. 

 

“It might be a liiiiittle bit late for that.” Mark admitted, but really, he didn’t care. He just wanted this taken care of, he wanted to go, and be done with this whole business because, he had a lot of shit he was going to have to deal with. A lot of therapy to help with all the trauma and bullshit he was going through. 

 

“Well, let’s do this thing then!” Cersa clapped her hands, looking to Mark. “Do you want a drink, honey?” She asked him, and Mark shrugged a little. 

 

“Water?” He ventured after a moment, and Cersa gave him an amused look and covered her heart.

 

“Oh my god. That’s just…. So precious.” She said. “No I meant alcohol.” She said after a moment, and Mark just shook his head. 

 

“I don’t drink?” He ventured.

 

“No?” Cersa asked. “Don’t you think you should start?” She asked him. 

 

Milo sighed a little. “Cersa…” 

 

“I can’t.” Mark replied, shaking his head. “I mean, I literally can’t.  I would die.” Mark replied, clearing his throat a little. “The doctors told me… I can’t.” He said, not really having the energy to thoroughly explain. 

 

Both Milo and Cersa’s widened a little at that. Cersa just looked ten kinds of concerned. 

 

“Oh my god.” She said after a moment. “Brother, you found yourself such a dainty mortal.” She replied, smacking her brother’s shoulder playfully. Mark made a face at that. “I mean, it doesn’t matter.” She said, turning back to Mark. “I was only offering because this whole process is going to hurt. Like, a lot. Like, you’re going to wish you were plastered or knocked out, and there’s really nothing I can do about that.” She shrugged a little. 

 

Mark just stared at her for a moment. “Are you kidding me.” He asked, and she shook her head. Mark glanced to Milo and he shrugged a little. 

 

“I’ll be here for the whole process.” he promised softly, his hand tightening around Mark’s and Mark wondered if he looked like he was about to bolt. He might have been, actually. 

 

“I’ll give you you some motrin. It’s almost the same thing.” Cersa replied. “But then we really need to get going on this because as soon as Bael realizes what we’re doing, I’m willing to bet that he’s gonna be very, very angry.” She told him, nodding as she moved off into one of the other rooms, it looked to Mark like a kitchen. 

 

Mark was still kind of reeling from the whole thing. “Do I really have to do this?” He hissed a little, shooting a glare at Milo. 

 

“I mean, it’s either this or get dragged down to hell to be raped and tormented for all eternity. Is that really something you’re going to refuse?” Milo asked.

 

“I don’t know. How bad is this going to hurt?” Mark asked. Milo shot him another look and Mark shook his head. “I don’t know. I just…. This has all been a lot to take in. It’s been a whirlwind for the past 24 hours and I don’t know what I want anymore.” Mark sighed a little. “And I don’t feel like I’ve been given a lot of choice in… anything, either. The only thing I got to do that I actually wanted to do was drive your car. And talk to my mom.” he frowned a little. 

 

“Well, what would make you feel better?” Milo asked him. 

 

“Ugh, fuck, I don’t know.” Mark sagged a little, sinking back down onto the couch. He buried his face in his hands as he did, and the little black cat from before sauntered back over to him, gently headbutting one of his elbows. “And I don’t know, maybe you big, powerful immortal beings don’t care much for what us lesser beings think, but after a while it fucks with us.” Mark continued. “I don’t even feel like a person anymore, just a prop for you guys to move around.” He sighed a little. “I’m not normally like this, either. I’ve put a lot of stock in being the funny guy, you know? That’s who I am, that’s my personality. When you can make someone laugh you can defuse a potentially bad situation, or score points with the hot girl.” Mark shrugged. “That’s always been my shield and I can’t even do that.” He said. “That’s who I was and I feel like that part of me is being drained.” He said. 

 

Milo knelt down on the floor in front of Mark, frowning a little. “If it helps I like your humor.” He threw in, and Mark gave him a glare for that. 

 

“You have not cracked even a smile at a single one of the few and far between jokes I’ve made over the past day.” he said. 

 

Milo hummed softly, gently taking one of Mark’s hands, tracing a finger over a line darting across his palm. “I’ve watched you for a long while, Mark. If I didn’t enjoy your humor, I would not have picked you.” he said. 

 

Mark blinked a little at that, before leaning in closer. “Wait, you weren’t just watching me from the beach, were you?” He said, seeming to realize something. “You’ve been....” Mark blinked again, as the memories began to come back. It wasn’t something he had always realized. Since he came to California. In a coffee shop while flirting with a barista. The first time he went to Disneyland. It wasn’t something he noticed all the time, but on occasion he could remember. Accidentally locking eyes with a guy in a bar, and quickly looking away because he didn’t want to send him the wrong signals. A couple of weeks later, when Mark was plastered and about to get into a fight, a guy that looked similar punching out the guy that was threatening him. “You’ve been following me everywhere.” He realized. “Jesus Christ that is… I don’t know if that’s your idea of romance but that’s just.” Mark squirmed a little. “That’s fucking creepy. No wonder you never brought that shit up.” 

 

“What are you talking about? You culture worships that sort of thing.” Milo replied.

 

“My culture most certainly does not.”

 

Milo cleared his throat. “Oh, what's that one song, how's it go? Every move you make, every step you take, I'll be watching you.” He said. “A ‘love’ song, mind you.”

 

Mark scoffed. “Okay, that's one song, give me one other example where…”

 

“ _ Twilight _ .” Milo put in.

 

“Okay, but like, that's  _ Twilight _ , no one was looking at that and going yes, these are healthy relationships to strive for.” Mark answered. 

 

“Then explain why it was so popular.” Milo challenged. 

 

“I don't know… teenage hormones?” Mark shrugged, he couldn't believe the turn this conversation had taken. “Most people outgrow that phase.”

 

“Ah, then explain ‘ _ Fifty Shades of Grey _ .’” Milo continued. “Which as I understood was targeted to a mature female audience, as opposed to a teenage one.”

 

“I mean, I don't know.” Mark struggled a bit. “I don't think that these cherry picked examples means our culture worships unhealthy sexual relationships.” Mark continued. 

 

Milo leaned in a bit. “Then explain your bodice ripping romance novels.”

 

“Oh fuck me.” Mark mumbled. “I've never even read one. Or any of the other things you’ve mentioned. I don’t know the appeal.” He admitted. “But none of that is the point, the point is, in real fucking life, you don't do that shit, and…” 

 

“Shit I love me a good bodice ripping.” Cersa piped in as she came back in. She had in her hands a cup of water and two pills, which she handed to Mark. Mark just took them, grateful for the conversation to finally be over with. 

 

“So… are you guys ready to rumble?” She asked, allowing Mark finish off the cup of water before she moved to take it. 

 

Mark looked to Milo expectantly and… Milo just stared back. “Are you not going to answer for me?” Mark asked, as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hands.

 

“I think you should speak for yourself.” Milo replied. “Are you ready, or do you need more time?” He asked, and Mark was momentarily stunned. It wasn't much but, it was almost like he was being given a choice about something. He didn’t know that it made him feel better exactly, but it was progress, he felt like.

 

Mark flashed a bit of a smile and finally nodded at Cersa. “Yeah, we should probably get this over with.” He said. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another fun fact! I saw Alice Cooper perform with Ke$ha at the Whiskey A Go Go a few years back. Great show. I'm still` never ever ever returning to Los Angeles lmao. 
> 
> Unfortunately it's going to get worse for Mark before it gets better, but you know, character growth. This is gonna be good for him, such a good.... life... experience... to learn from. Grow from. Maybe? He's gonna be fine. I think. Maybe.
> 
> Idk when I'm gonna have the next chapter up, but hopefully soon. Been doing pretty good so far. Wish me luck!


	4. Desperado

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I got sick in the middle of writing this chapter. So as a warning, the writing is not going to be as good. There's a lot of plot happening here, so I'm sad that it's not going to be as cleaned up, but I also don't want to wait too long before posting these chapters. I feel like if I lose the momentum on this story it might not get finished. That make sense? I hope that makes sense. Hopefully in the future I can re-re-edit this thing and just make it nicer.

At the third cut Mark’s resolve weakened and his body was shaking so badly from the pain that Cersa and Milo had to kind of change their tactics. Instead of Mark being seated on a stool, they directed him over to the couch, having him lay out on his stomach, his head resting in Milo’s lap. Milo kept his hands on him, trying to comfort, (and restrain him, for his own safety, when needed.) Mark was doing his damndest to stay conscious through it, swearing quietly, weeping softly when it got to be too much. And Cersa kept calm throughout the whole painful procedure, wiping his blood with a clean cloth when it pooled and dripped down his sides. Occasionally she would stop to check on him, make sure he was still with them, and her voice was sweet, like music in his ears, but he’d long since lost the ability to actually understand her, so overwhelming was the pain he was in. Mark was certain he’d blacked out a number of times during the procedure, he couldn’t tell. Cersa’s cat was ever present during all of this, keeping a watchful eye over everything. He’d been disturbed from his nap spot earlier, since Mark needed the couch, but he found himself a new position on the back of it. Mark had thought it was kind of all odd, but what did he know, maybe the cat was in on it. 

 

Finally, after what felt like hours, they were done. Shaking and weak, Mark pushed himself into a sitting position. Milo supported him through it, keeping a hand on him, and once Mark was upright, he pulled Mark in, letting him rest his head against his shoulder. Mark closed his eyes, just trying to get his breathing evened out. “That…. That fucking hurt.” He panted a little against Milo’s shoulder. 

 

“I know.” Milo told him soothingly, pressing his lips to Mark’s forehead. It was such a gentle touch, and Mark was feeling so out of it that he actually appreciated it. He felt like it kept him grounded. “You did well.” Milo said, after a moment. 

 

“Yeah, you went through all that torture without much in the way of pain numbing.” Cersa pointed out. “That’s pretty hardcore. I sure as shit wouldn’t do it.” She took a moment to examine her handiwork, and of course, pulled out her phone to snap a pic. “Do you want to see what it looks like now?” She asked him. 

 

Mark turned his eyes towards her, too exhausted to really turn around and see what she was looking it at. So she brought her phone around to show him the picture she took and…

 

“Ah… Is that a pusheen in the center of the where the pentagram was?” Mark asked, as he took in the new sigil on his back. 

 

“Yeah.” Cersa nodded immediately. “Honestly, I could have put anything there. The point was to disperse the bad magic, replace it with something else. And since the new spell is tied to me, it ought to be something I like, right?” She asked him, and Mark just hummed, because, well, that left him with a Pusheen tattoo. What could he even say about that? 

 

“But the important part is right here.” She said, tapping at the letters over the bottom. “That’s my name, and under it, my promise to keep you protected and bound to this ethereal plane, with mentions of my brother in there, because I figured he would appreciate it.”    
  


“I do.” Milo put in. 

 

“I got rid of the arrow too, because that shit is tacky.” She shook her head a little. “All I got to do now is bandage it up, and you’re good to go. Just, for the next couple of days, let Milo check it over for any signs of infection, keep it covered, drink a lot of water, and stay out of the sun. Well, as much as you can.” She said. “I know how it can be, life on the run, so I don’t know, maybe just keep covered. And speaking of, you guys have got to go, I’ve got to wrap this up, because if I know Bael, he’s going to sense that his spell was fuckerknocked, and he’s probably already on his way.” She nodded a little, as she moved to do all of those things. 

 

Mark just nodded, he couldn’t even move, he was so exhausted and cold. And Milo was actually pretty pleasantly warm, and he couldn’t really help himself, curling up against Milo’s still bare chest. 

 

Milo chuckled a bit at the perceived affection he was getting. But, really, Mark was just cold, no no, this wasn’t affection, honestly. He was just hurting. And tired. And, yeah, probably a little emotional after all that. Yeah, he could admit that. It was still totally manly to have feelings and be vulnerable, he thought he had that right, especially right now. 

 

“Don’t make fun.” Mark said quietly, and Milo shook his head.

 

“I would never.” Milo promised. 

 

Cersa set down some of her supplies, moving to cover the tattoo with what felt like a large bandage, then placing some plastic wrap over that, with tape to protect the new ink. “Okay…” She said after a moment. “Looks like you’re good. Let’s just get you dressed and…”

 

Everyone in the room jumped when they heard what sounded like an explosion went off in the front yard. Cersa swore loudly, and in a second both gods were moving to cover Mark from a hail of glass shards blowing inward. The light of the afternoon sun was gone, replaced with the red of a nuclear apocalypse. Cersa’s cat was arched up on the back of the couch, hissing loudly. 

 

“Well, that was fucking fast.” Milo grunted, shaking some of the glass off. 

 

“Yeah…” Cersa replied faintly, as she glanced back to her brother and patient. Mark was totally fine, protected as he was, but he was processing things slowly, his ears ringing. Milo on the other hand, was sporting a few cuts, but there didn’t seem to be anything major. Cersa looked at her back and saw several places where the shards had sank in, cutting her pretty good, but she knew she would survive. She’d been through worse, after all. “Okay, change of plans.” She decided. “Milo, you get him dressed, and get the fuck out of here.” She said. “I’ll stall Bael.”

 

“Oh your own?” Milo asked. “Are you sure?”

 

She gave him a look. “Kaz, I know how to handle a demon having a temper tantrum. Just get the boytoy out of here.” She instructed, as she moved to leave the living room and stand by the door. There was already a sound like someone was trying to beat it down, and Mark cast a glance over to Milo. 

 

“Does she know what she’s doing?” He asked, as Milo began to get him up and help him back into his clothing. 

 

“No, but if I say anything about it she’ll get mad, you know?” Milo asked. Mark pulled his own pants back on, but the movement was shaking, slow. He needed to lean on Milo to do it. After that Milo just cut to the chase, pulling Mark’s shirt and jacket over him, moving a lot more quickly, though with much greater care. 

 

“Shouldn’t we help her, then?” Mark asked, and Milo shook his head. 

 

“Bael is focused on you, what’ll help her best is us getting the fuck out.” Milo said, and he moved, gently lifting Mark into his arms. Mark just slid his arms around Milo’s neck, not even bothering to argue that he could probably hoof it just fine. He was slowly resigning himself to being carried everywhere. 

 

As they began to pass by the front door they saw it swing open from the force of a strong blow, sending wooden shards down the hallway. To her credit, Mark could see Cersa standing her ground. And Bael…. he looked fucking pissed. Mark could see just past him what he’d done to Cersa’s front yard and well, there was just a lot of shit on fire out there. 

 

“Cersaaaaa…” Bael purred, pointing at the goddess, who simply smirked, raising her chin up. “What are you doing, messing with my handiwork?”

 

“I didn't like it. I made it cuter, bound the human to me instead.” she shrugged. “Whatcha gonna do about it?” She asked him.

 

“Well first, I'm gonna kick your ass. Then, I'm gonna kick Milo's ass, then skip the whole waiting period bullshit, I'm taking the mortal now.” Bael decided.

 

“Yeah? I can't wait to see you try.” Cersa taunted him. “You can't take him anywhere now.”

 

“Fucking watch me.” Bael growled. “Your spell makes it hard, not impossible.” He said. “Besides you’re no threat.” 

 

“Well, look at you.” Cersa cooed at him. “You get a couple push ups under your belt and suddenly you can take a goddess.” Cersa said. “Well come on then. Impress me.” 

 

Mark winced a little at the loud crack, and Cersa went down, sprawled out across the floor.

 

“He just fucking wiped out your sister in one punch.” Mark hissed at Milo, and he… didn't even look surprised.

 

“Well, her ego was always bigger than her brain.” Milo replied, as he took Mark into the library, slamming the door closed behind them. Milo even went out of his way to lock the door, but Mark figured he was just stalling for time. 

 

“Come out, come out boys…” Mark heard Bael on the other side of the door.

 

“Did you have a plan b?” Mark asked, fearfully.

 

“Cersa was my plan b.” Milo replied, as he moved into the library. Mark glanced around, noting that there were, indeed, a couple of bookshelves in there… a desk pushed up against an open window, and laying out across the floor, several very exposed, very dangerous wires, pulled out of the sockets of several power strips and laid out across the floor.. Suddenly Mark realized just what Milo had been up to earlier, when Cersa was diagnosing him.

 

“This was my plan a.” Milo said, moving to climb up onto the desk, just shifting his hold on Mark just slightly to ease his way up. He held his hand out in front of him, and the walls began creaking. Mark could hear what sounded like several pipes bursting, and he could actually see it, as water began to issue forth from the wall. It began with a slight darkening in some patches of the wall, a few droplets of moisture appearing, before it began to violently spring forth, saturating the floor and moving along the live wires.

 

Mark tightened his grip on Milo as his brain fought to catch up with everything that was happening. “Ah… this doesn't seem like a great plan…” Mark replied.

 

“Just trust me. And hold on.” Milo said. 

 

Milo began to back off the desk and through the window, right as Bael got the door open. As soon as Bael stepped inside Mark could hear the whiplike crack of electricity shooting through the other man, who let out a satisfyingly emasculating cry. Milo used the distraction to quickly slip through the window with Mark. 

 

In Cersa’s backyard there was at least a pool, and Mark figured that was why Milo wanted to exit this way. When there isn’t much in the way of groundwater, or any water, and that’s your power, you kind of have to bring that shit to you. 

 

Milo set Mark on the ground, letting him lean against the side of the house for a moment, as he pulled the window closed. He then took Mark’s hand and began to tug him along. Mark pulled him up. “What about Cersa and her cat?” He asked. 

 

Milo blinked. “Cersa’s a goddess, she’ll be fine. And the cat’s her familiar, it’s just an extension of her.” he explained. “But we have to go now because that wasn’t going to stop him for long…”    
  
As if on cue, The window in the library blew out, and Bael went to climb out of it. Milo grabbed Mark, pulling the man behind him. “Change of plans. Just run.” He said. 

 

“What?” Mark demanded. “That’s an even worse plan than the improvised taser you came up with!” Mark said. It was almost like Milo had completely forgotten the whole surgery while awake thing he’d just been through. If he had to limp off into the sunset then he was kind of fucked. 

 

“Mark…” Milo hissed, and Bael laughed. He was looking a little singed, his hair fucked out of it’s neat ponytail, and his whole body was steaming a bit. 

 

“Ah, I love you two.” Bael hissed. “Was there ever a honeymoon period, or did you both just jump into that part of the marriage where you hate each other?”    
  
Milo flicked his wrist, and a tiny wave formed in the pool, splashing upwards to hit Bael in the face. Mark snorted as Bael wiped away the moisture.

 

“Mature.” Bael said. Milo did it again.

 

Bael closed his eyes, shaking his head as he drew his hand down over his face. “Yeah, I don’t have all day to fuck with you.” he said, and he snapped his fingers in Mark’s direction. Milo moved to stand in front of him and… Milo turned around, looking confused. 

 

“Mark?” He called, seeming to look right through him. 

 

Mark just stared up at him. “Right here… Milo? Are you blind?” he asked, but Milo didn’t even seem to see him. He watched as Milo turned back to look at Bael, only to find the man gone. Mark didn’t even realize what was happening until Milo reached out and his hand…. Moved right through him. 

 

“Oh…? Oh!” Mark replied, as he realized just what the fuck was going on. “Oh fuck.” he said, backing away from Milo. Bael did something to him somehow that turned him fucking invisible. And Milo couldn’t see, or apparently, feel him. Then Bael disappeared. Which Mark figured was just going to spell out trouble for him….

 

“Tch, pathetic.” Mark heard from behind him. And since Milo didn’t react to that at all, Mark figured he didn’t hear it either. Mark turned around just in time to see Bael, looming over him with a malicious smirk on his face. 

 

Bael grabbed him, and suddenly, everything went dark.

 

~~

 

Mark woke up very, very slowly.The first thing he became aware of was the sound of music, the beat reverberating through his temples, pounding, exacerbating the horrific headache he was sporting. 

 

_ I’m a picture of  _

 

_ ugly stories _

 

_ I’m a killer and _

 

_ I’m a clown _

 

It wasn’t just his head though. Everything hurt. He tried to move but he could feel that his arms were bound in front of him. Was it tape or rope? He figured it was tape, because he could tell there was something covering his mouth, and it felt like tape. It would make sense that whoever had tied him up covered his mouth with that too. 

 

He couldn’t remember what happened to get him in this situation. And when he opened his eyes they burnt, immediately. He snapped his eyes closed again, groaning softly. 

 

“Ahh… awake, huh?” Mark recognized Bael’s voice and his eyes snapped back open again. 

 

It took him a moment for the light to not be so blinding, so that he could actually see his surroundings. . He was slumped over in the front seat of a car…. Milo’s car, Mark realized. But it wasn’t Milo who was driving. 

 

“Well, took you long enough.” Bael decided, after a moment. He hummed a little with the music as he drove along. 

 

_ Step into the street by sundown _

 

_ Step into your last goodbye _

 

_ You're a target just by living _

 

_ Twenty dollars will make you die _

 

Mark tried to see where the hell they were but everything was so fucking bright. Blinking a couple of times to try and clear his vision, he was finally able to see…

 

Desert. A whole fuckload of desert. And a truck driving ahead of them on the one lane road they were stuck on. Mark raised his bound hands to his mouth, trying to work the tape off before he tried anything else. 

  
“I just want you to know that it’s not personal.” Bael said, and Mark wondered if he must be bored or something. 

 

Mark ripped the tape off his mouth and gasped, that fucking hurt. He crumpled it up between his fingers and dropping it on the floor of the cabin. “It’s kind of personal to me.” Mark said, looking for his opportunity. He worked on the tape around his wrists, just kind of watching the road in the meantime. 

 

Bael snorted. “Yeah I guess it would be for you.” he commented, as he pressed his foot down on the gas. Mark braced for the two of them to actually hit the truck, but Bael eased off, just in time. That gave Mark an idea. 

 

“This shit between me and whatshisface…. You call him Milo?” He shrugged. “Milo.” he spat the name out like it left a bad taste in his mouth. “Fucking bizarre, no one else calls him…. Anyways.” Bael shook his head. He laid on the horn, as he pulled that same stupid maneuver, getting way too close to the truck, like that was going to make him move faster. Mark chewed on his bottom lip as he tried to loosen the tape. He leaned in, trying to pry it off with his teeth. “Guess I’m just saying, that in about, eh, forty minutes or so, when I’m gutting you like a fish and leaving you to die in the dirt, I’ll be thinking about him, the whole time.” Bael sighed a little. 

 

“You have a really unhealthy fascination with Milo.” Mark replied, peeling back part of the tape. “You ought to see someone about that…. Maybe get some help.” 

 

_ Tell me where the hell I'm going _

 

_ Let my bones fall in the dust _

 

_ Can't you hear that ghost that's calling _

 

_ As my Colt begins to rust _

 

“Oh I’m fine.” Bael assured him. “I’m fucking great. I don’t need any help, I just need you dead, and Milo suffering, knowing that everyone he gets close to is going to die as ugly as you.”

 

“Uncalled for.” Mark decided. “For all that you think I’m ugly, neither you nor Milo can seem to keep your hands off of me.” he noted.

 

“No. Moron.” Bael shook his head. “I’m talking about how I’m going to kill you. It’s gonna be ugly. Painful.” 

 

Mark finally got the tape off of his wrists. He wadded it up like the other piece earlier, letting that fall to the cabin floor as well. “We’ll see about that.” 

 

Then, he made his move.

 

~~

 

Cersa whined a little when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She tried to bat it away. Her whole head fucking hurt, and she couldn’t remember why. But the hand was insistent, shaking her. However, she was equally insistent, picking up her leg and kicking whoever the fuck was being so rude. She was pretty sure she just needed a few more hours of sleep. Maybe then she’d feel better. 

 

“Did you really just kick me?” She recognized her brother’s voice and she jerked upright, everything coming back to her in a flash. 

 

“Oh shit. Where’s the demon?” She demanded, seeing her brother nearby, bowled over from where she had just kicked him. 

 

“Gone. Fuck. One thing at a time.” Kaz replied, and Cersa looked to him as he gingerly rubbed his knee.

 

“Oh. Fuck. Sorry about that.” Cersa replied as she scrambled over to her brother’s side. “I was just trying to teach you a lesson about waking sleeping cats and whatever.” She said, looking him over quickly, but he appeared to be fine. A couple scrapes and bruises but, fine. 

 

“Wait, where’s Mark?” Cersa finally asked the obvious question, as Daphnis came around the corner, sauntering into few. He hopped into her lap, seeming to know when he was needed. 

 

“Taken.” Kaz replied, pulling a hand down over his face.

 

Cersa blinked. And blinked again. Then she reached out, smacking her brother’s arm again. “You fucking, I let that bastard knock me out so the two of you could get out of here, why didn’t you?” She asked.

 

“Yeah, you ‘let’ him.” Kaz replied skeptically, raising an eyebrow at her. “I don’t know. He did that freaky disappearing shit with Mark. It all happened so fast.” he frowned. “One moment I had Mark in my reach, and in the next he was just…. gone.

 

“The disappearing thing. I hate that.” Cersa replied, nodding a bit. She carefully stood up, carrying the cat with her. She stumbled a little as she got to her feet, wincing as her head rang out its displeasure, fuck, Bael had hit her hard. “Well, we need to find him, I guess.” She said, taking Daphnis with her as she went into her room. She placed Daphnis on the desk as she began to search among her items, tossing various things to the floor. 

 

“You guess?” Kaz asked her, ducking a stuffed teddy bear as it sailed by his head. She could feel his presence as he stood in the doorway, watching her throw shit around the room as she looked for what she needed. “If anything happens to him…” Kaz sighed a little, and his posture just sagged. “It’ll be my fault.” He said. 

 

Cersa finally grabbed something off of her desk, but she paused, turning back to her brother. She took the object, gripping it with both hands, and holding it over her heart. “Kaz?” She asked. 

 

“I thought it would have been different this time. I kept it a secret from everyone. If I took him and hid him it would be…. This time...”    
  


She had to stop him there. “Emma wasn’t your fault.” She said, moving to squeeze his arm, trying to be encouraging. “You did everything you could. Sometimes these things are just out of our control.”

 

Kaz sighed. Cersa frowned and pressed on.

 

“Oh fuck you're actually sad right now. Let me just go ahead and hit you with the perspective train. He is a mortal. There are literally billions of them on this planet alone. Don't ask me about other planets, because they’ve all stopped talking to me. What the fuck makes him so special to you? He’s replaceable.” She said, trying to shock an answer out of her brother.

 

“Fucking… no. Fuck you, Cersa, no he's not.” Kaz insisted.

 

“Then explain it to me. I’m your sister, and so far as I know, the only person you still talk to besides mom and dad. You never had much of a social life, unless that’s changed in the past few years.” She demanded. She looked him over, but he didn’t try to argue, so she figured she at least got that right. “This whole fascination with him, it’s more than a crush, isn't it? It has something to do with Emma, right?” 

 

Kaz levelled her with another look. “I don't  know.” He finally said. “I think he just… reminds me of her.” He said.

 

“Emma acted nothing like Mark.” Cersa pointed out.

 

“And this is why I didn't want to talk about it.” Kaz sighed. “I can’t explain it. It’s just… the feeling is there. It’s comforting.” Kaz shrugged a little, apparently still kicking himself over all the drama. 

 

Cersa frowned. “Look.” She said softly. “You’ve got to focus on what’s important now. We can’t change what happened to Emma. But there’s still hope for Mark.” She assured him. “Hey, remember that spell?” She asked him. “If he was dead, I would know, you know?” She said, and finally, with her gentle encouragement, Kaz nodded.

 

“Yeah.” Cersa said. She gently pulled away the charm she had kept close to her chest. It was a tiny locket, in the shape of an apple. Kaz studied it for a moment. 

 

“Is that a Disney collectible?” He asked her.

 

Cersa gave him a look. “Look, maybe I attached the spell to a gen-you-wine poisoned apple locket from the gen-you-wine Disney Store because sometimes, I want my spells to make me feel like a Disney witch goddammit, don’t you judge me!” She said, as she took the locket and clasped it around her neck. “Point is, we’re going to take this, pile into your car, and rescue your dude.” She told Kaz. 

 

Kaz gave her another look, and Cersa cocked her head at him. “Bael…. Might have stolen my car.” he told her, and she sighed.

 

“How the fuck.” She said after a moment. “How do you fail so fucking hard when I’m power-napping?” Cersa asked. She turned to the bed, holding her arms out for Daphnis, and the kitty eagerly jumped into her arms. “Grab my duffel in the corner over there and let’s go get in the Girl Power truck..” She said, directing Kaz towards a rather large bag in the corner of the room. Kaz grabbed it and slung it over his shoulder. 

 

“Time for plan c?” Kaz asked her, following her as she grabbed herself a pink cowboy hat and went into the kitchen to grab a couple of water bottles. 

 

“Exactly.” Cersa replied, finally grabbing her keys and heading for the door.

 

~~

 

Mark felt someone dragging him along the pitched gravel of the road, before setting him gently down in the dirt. 

 

“Oh fuck.” he heard a voice he didn’t recognize say. 

 

Mark had been through a lot that day. He kind of wanted to just lay there, but there was something urgent, something that his subconsciousness was urging him needed to be attended to. He couldn’t just lay there. He had to get up. 

 

_ Get up. _

 

Mark opened his eyes, shooting himself upwards into a sitting position. It fucking hurt, every fucking muscle in his body hurt like hell. 

 

“No! No no no, don’t get up. Shit, wait for the ambulance.” 

 

“I can’t…” Mark replied, pushing away the gentle hand that was reaching for him. It took him a moment to process everything. 

 

A heavy set man was kneeling over him. He was a good thirty to forty years older than Mark, with a gray mustache and long gray hair pulled into a ponytail. He was wearing a black dad hat and a flannel shirt. It took Mark a moment to realize, but this guy had to have been driving the truck in front of them. 

 

Mark remembered causing the accident. He slid across the seat and pressed his foot down over Bael’s over the gas, sending the car careening forward and into the back of the truck. It seemed like a good idea at the time. For some reason he hadn’t expected the crash to be so violent. As he took in the scene, the destroyed car in front of them, the airbags deployed. Bits of both the car and the truck littered the street. Hell, some of the debris was actually on fire. He could smell the smoke and burnt plastic and rubber. The poor guy in the truck in front of them must have stopped and fucking pulled him out of the car. Goddamn, he felt like such an ass, now. He was only thinking about stopping the car and getting out, getting away from Bael, he didn’t mean to involve an innocent bystander. 

 

“I…” Mark looked around, looking for Bael. He didn’t see him. He looked up to the trucker. 

 

“Your friend, the driver?” The trucker replied, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, he, he didn’t make it.” 

 

Mark blinked, looking up to the trucker. “He’s what?” 

 

“Didn’t make it…. He…. he’s passed on.” The trucker told him, placing a hand on Mark’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.” 

 

Mark blinked a little, thinking it over. He had one thought jump up in his mind.  _ That generally just makes him mad. _

 

“No no, he just wants you to think that.” Mark replied as he moved to push himself into a standing position. He nearly didn’t make it. His knees started to buckle and the trucker had to help steady him. 

 

“I don’t know what you mean.” The trucker replied, looking to Mark with genuine concern. “You shouldn’t…. Hang on, you’ve been through something awful, you need to sit down, let the ambulance check you out.” He argued reasonably. Mark shook his head. 

 

“No I…. I need to go, you need to go.” Mark replied. “Do you…” He sighed, trying to verbalize his thought process here. He knew he was going to have to do something stupid and crazy here, but considering his options…. Well he didn’t really have many. “Do you have any water?” He asked the trucker. 

 

The trucker blinked, but then he nodded. “Yeah, yeah, of course.” he said. “Just wait right here. Don’t go anywhere, now.” He said, heading back to the cabin of his truck. A couple of seconds later he returned, moving to offer an unopened bottle of water to Mark. Mark took it gratefully, and he didn’t even care that it was lukewarm. It felt amazing on his throat, after breathing in the fumes that came from the crash. 

 

“Can I keep it?” Mark asked, and the trucker waved him off.    
  
“Dude, I’m not drinking after you. It’s fine.” The man said. 

 

“Okay, I just.” Mark wavered a moment on his feet, and the trucker braced him again with a hand on his elbow. He had a moment or two to really doubt the stunt he was about to pull, but he really felt like he didn’t have a choice. If Bael was looking to back him in a corner, he’d done it beautifully. 

 

“I… I need to go.” he finally said, looking back to the trucker. “And you should go to.” he said to the other man. “If you don’t he’s going to kill you.” Mark warned him. He gently tugged his arm out of the other man’s hold, taking a few unsteady, backwards steps into the desert. The trucker gave him a conflicted look. 

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I can’t leave the scene of an accident, though.” he said. “Kid, hey.” The trucker said, trying to stop Mark. “You can’t go out that way, there’s nothing there! You…. you’ll die!” he called after him. 

 

“No I won’t.” Mark replied,  holding up the water bottle. “I have hydration. And I have to… I have to go. You have to go. Please go before he wakes up.” Mark begged him quietly. “Please.” 

  
  


“Kid…”

 

Mark didn’t listen to what else the man had to say. He turned his back on the whole, messy scene, running out into the desert, passing a cactus in his wake. It was hot, and he was tired, and sore, but he had to run. Maybe whenever Bael woke up he wouldn’t hurt the trucker. No, why would he? He wanted Mark. 

 

He ducked his head down and moved, determined, into the desert. 

 

After a couple of miles the scenery began to change. There were mountains, hills. Bits of broken trash from an earlier time. A couple of old, smashed up cars, that couldn’t handle the off-roading nearly as well as it’s owners wrongly believed they could. A  broken sign with the letters so damaged he could scarcely make out what it said.  _ Canyon Diablo _ .

 

“Of fucking course.” Mark mumbled, as he made his way forward, passing by the crumbling remains of what might have, at one point, been a small town. 

 

Seemed like as good a place for a showdown as any.

 

~~

 

It was a few hours later when Cersa pulled up on the site of the crash. Driving and letting the locket guide them was a little bit trickier than she assumed. She tried to let Kaz drive for a while, but since her directions just seemed to confuse him and they ended up missing a few exits, Cersa just got frustrated and took over the driving herself. 

 

At this point there was an ambulance and a few cops combing over the scene. Kaz glanced over to Cersa, then back to the scene. 

 

“Well. So much for that.” he said, when he realized that that was his car, wrecked to pieces in front of them. “Was Mark…” 

 

“He’s fine. He’s hurt but fine.” Cersa said, as she put her truck in park. She slid out of the car, and Kaz quickly followed. Daphnis, who’d been sitting on the dashboard as they drove, hopped down as well, faithfully following behind its master. While Cersa moved to grab her duffel from the truck bed, Kaz approached a group of officers. 

 

In front of the small group was the skeletonized remains of a man, still smoldering, one blackened hand raised up to the sky in agony. But even that bizarre scene didn’t seem to be what the cops were quietly staring at. Kaz quickly picked up two sets of footprints, easy to pick up against the undisturbed desert, wandering from the scene of the crash and moving out into the wilderness.

 

His sister came up behind him, and seemed to quickly spot the same thing he did. Of course, she had he locket guiding her. It probably didn’t take much for her to put two and two together. 

 

One cop approached them. “Hey.” he said. “This is an active investigation, you can’t be here.” Kaz snorted.

 

“We’re not staying.” Kaz informed him, as Cersa, followed behind by the little black cat, pointed out into the desert. 

 

“They went that-a-way.” She said. “You ready?” She asked Kaz, knowing that as soon as they got there, shit was going to go down.” Kaz nodded. 

 

“I’m ready.” He assured her.

 

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” One of the cops put in. “There’s nothing out there.” He said. “You go off down there, and if you get hurt, there’s no one that’s going to be able to help you.” he warned. 

 

“We’ll be fine.” Kaz replied dismissively. 

 

Both he and Cersa turned from the small group, marching together out into the scorching desert. Daphnis trailed along between them, the cat thoroughly undaunted as the trio made their way. 

 

There was no time to lose. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man it's kind of weird writing this shit while also watching Mark videos in the background. Anyone else get that weird disconnect when writing? Like there's the guy on the screen making you laugh, while you do terrible shit to him on your computer. Man, what a world we live in.


	5. A Race Against Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I really get into this chapter I feel like I need to address something. I made the decision a while back to use real places in this fic. I had thought about making up my own, but I kind of wanted to use real places that I really knew about and could be excited about. So yeah, the Canyon Diablo, Two Guns, The Apache Death Cave, all of those have a place of prominence in this chapter, and they are all real places you can really visit. But that latter one... 
> 
> So in this chapter Bael's going to be depicting something that may or may not have happened in the Apache Death Cave, and well, we've all established that Bael? Not a good guy. So he's going to go about in a way that people could find offensive and crass. If you should be reading his retelling about this and find yourself feeling like, fuck, this guy is an asshole, well, good. That means you still have a soul. I don't want to shy away from these things to protect people's feelings. I'm one of those people who believes that sometimes, art should hurt, so that we can learn from it, and learn how to not be a jackass. Still, if you find you could be sensitive to these cultural issues, feel free to skip this chapter, and I'll see you in part six. 
> 
> And while I'm on the topic, if you happen to be familiar with this incident at the Apache Death Caves, I want to hear what you know, because I'm a little suspicious that it might not have actually happened? I've done a little research into it, and there's a lot of different websites that have their own version of it. I've even seen websites that have assigned supposed dates to it, I've seen different websites where they've actually named some of the supposed participants, I even saw a website that claimed to have pictures of family members of the Apaches involved. But I'm a little skeptical, because I know everything that's known about Canyon Diablo turned out to be a hoax. When the history of a city falls on the writings of a man who was born 80 years after the town apparently closed, you can probably be safely skeptical in his retelling of things, you know? And considering the way people came along after and tried to profit off of this story.... I feel like it even if it did really happen, it was probably embellished to the point where it becomes more fiction than fact. Which is unfortunate, and I think that does a great disservice to the people it affects. 
> 
> So I guess I'm done ranting for now. For those of you who choose to read on, thank you. If you're ready for the fluff, I'll get writing on that soon. Lmao.

 

The sun had long since waned by the time Mark reached the town proper. Or, more accurately, what remained of a tiny settled ghost town. All that was really left was the markings of a dirt road, an old cistern, and the crumbling remains of a stone house. Or a business, maybe. It was hard to tell when you didn't have a phone to google what you were looking at. As he moved into the area he passed by what had to be a grave, but the name on the headstone was so weather-beaten he could hardly read it. It gave him the chills to look at, so he moved on.

 

Once he reached the middle of the abandoned settlement his strength essentially gave out. He stopped, in the middle of the dirt road, silently willing himself to keep going, but he simply didn't have the strength to do so. He'd been running on fumes since Cersa's hack and slash job from earlier in the day. He desperately needed to rest, at least for a little while. He took in the scenery around him, and his eyes settled on something in the middle of the road. An old, rusting crowbar.

 

Mark made the shelled out remains of the house his shelter. There was very little left of the original facade, the various partitions and even the glass windows had rotted away. He made his way to the remains of a wall and dropped down next to it, resting his back carefully against it. He knew shit was bad just from how good it felt to finally sit down, even this position, leaning against a stone wall with his legs crossed in front of him.  Beside him to his right was the rusty old crow bar he'd found out in the dusty remains of the city's main street. On his other side, the half full water bottle the trucker had given him. He was trying to parcel the water out, bit by bit, reserving it for when he really needed it. Even in this makeshift shelter it was scorching hot, and Mark was thirsty, but he felt like he couldn't risk downing what was left of the water just yet. The only thing he could do was hunker down, and hope Bael loses track of him, or, and he knew this would have to be a last resort just based on how weak he felt, face him down.

 

He had an old crowbar, a crumbling shelter with the sky as the roof, half a bottle of water and no other weapons. He was pretty keenly aware of how fucked he probably was.

 

Without any other options available to him, he closed his eyes and tried to rest.

 

~~

 

Mark had drifted off pretty hard. Even though he was sitting with the back to the wall behind him, he’d managed to fall asleep, he felt like for hours. By the time he woke up it was night. He wasn’t terribly sure how long he’d actually been asleep, or even why he’d woken up, although the sound of gravel shifting nearby caused him to tense up almost immediately. But when he saw what it was, he was able to relax a little. A small rabbit stood up on its hind legs, looking like it was just as surprised to see him as he was to see it. He kept still for a moment, trying to project some kind of calm to the creature, and carefully it moved closer, seeming to sniff the air around him. It felt kind of natural to him to hold out his hand to it, like he was inviting a feral cat to come and check him out, and see that he wasn’t a threat. Unfortunately the tiny creature wasn’t able to interpret his meaning and it scampered back, leaving the shelter through a small hole in the wall.

 

Mark sighed a little, dropping his hand. “Okay, bun bun.” he said, and his voice was scratchy, choked up to his own ears. He decided he needed to actually drink some of that water and allowed himself a sip of it. It was as he was drinking that he heard something that sounded distinctly like footsteps outside…

 

He paused, listening a bit harder. As he did he realized he could actually hear footsteps outside of the house. They were getting louder as they approached, sinking into the various rocks and gravel that surrounded them. Mark wondered what the odds were that it wasn’t what he thought it was, that it could just be an animal, or a couple of kids messing around. He decided that the odds of that were actually pretty low. Mark glanced to the crowbar he’d found earlier, reaching a shaking hand, out to cover it. Just having his hand on it was comforting.

 

On the other side of the wall he was pressed up against, Mark heard the footsteps come to a halt. He held his breath for a moment, closed his eyes, like somehow both of those things would improve his chances. He heard what sounded like claws scraping down the sides of the house, and Mark knew immediately. He was fucked. 

 

“I’m ready for you darling.” The hated voice of the man hunting him reached his ears. “Come on, sweetie. I know you’re in there.” 

 

Mark opened his eyes. He knew there wasn’t anything else he could do. He grabbed his crowbar and got ready to face his fate. 

 

~~

 

The fight was pretty short-lived, all things considered. Mark got in a couple of hits, but he just didn’t have the energy to put up a real defense. Bael easily took the crowbar away and next thing he knew he was being slung over Bael’s shoulder, and carried off. He didn’t even have the strength left to fight it, he couldn’t kick, definitely couldn’t scream, his throat being too dry. 

 

So this was it. Mark had kind of hoped he could hold out, that Milo or someone would find him, and he could just wait until then, but it didn’t seem like he’d be that lucky this time. 

 

He didn’t know if he was drifting in and out of consciousness as he was carried. He wouldn’t have been surprised. The ground changed a bit from pure desert to having spots of crab grass here and there. He grunted as he was suddenly dropped into a ditch in the ground. 

 

It took him a second to realize that Bael had actually gone through the trouble of digging him a shallow grave. He actually kind of laughed at that. There was nothing else he could do. 

 

“You picked an interesting place to die.” Bael noted, as he gestured to the scenery. Mark raised his head up slightly, though even doing that felt like way too much effort. He wasn’t able to see too much. It was night, but he could see the beginnings of what looked like an actual canyon, seeing that the place didn’t get it’s name for nothing. A fall down there would have probably killed anyone.

 

“You know what they called this place, honey?” Bael asked, placing a booted foot down on Mark’s stomach, causing Mark to hiss in pain. “This here is my canyon. Got my damn name on it. Earned it for a reason.” He said. “Legend says way back in the day an Apache Tribe raided a Navajo tribe, and slaughtered all but three of them. Three young girls. Took them prisoner and retreated with them down into the canyon.” Bael pointed it out, like Mark couldn’t damn well see it. “They set up camp in a cave and well, did with the girls what you probably suspect they did.” Bael grinned at that, and Mark couldn’t help a shiver.

 

“Well the Navajo leaders were none too pleased with that, and sent a group of warriors to hunt down the offending Apaches and if they could, rescue those girls. The Navajo warriors hunted for them for days, but it was like they’d just up and disappeared. Then one day, they felt a rush of heat coming from underground, and they realized the Apaches had set up a camp underground, in the cave system at the bottom of the canyon. So they came up with a plan. They covered the entrance to the cave with dried sagebrush and driftwood from the canyon floor and set it ablaze. When the Apaches woke up and realized what was happening, they slaughtered their own horses, using their blood to try and put out the fire, using their bodies to try and help barricade them. When they realized that wouldn’t be enough, they sent out one Apache to try and negotiate with the Navajo.” Bael told him, and Mark could actually picture it. He was still terrified by his approaching fate, but there was something about this story and the way Bael told it that made him think the other man had been there.

 

“They made a rather customary offer, their goods in exchange for their lives, and the Navajo agreed, on one condition. They asked about the fate of those girls.” Bael snorted at that. “Well by then the Apache had had their fun, and those girls were already long dead. And when that poor soul hesitated to admit it, the Navajo became enraged, killing him and firing their guns into the cave. They built up the fire and let those Apache men suffocate. Let the fires burn until their death chants faded out,  _ one _ by  _ one.” _

 

Bael rolled his shoulders, glancing back down to Mark. “Then one day, a white guy named himself Henry ‘Chief Crazy Thunder’ Miller and set up a shop nearby. Renamed the whole place Two Guns and sold the skulls of the Apache warriors he found down there in his shop. Went onto kill an unarmed man in a territorial dispute and get off completely scot-free. Only in America, eh?” Bael laughed. “I hear shit like that and I feel…. Inspired.” Bael said with a leering grin. “Inspired to be at least as miserable as the rest of your short-lived kind. If I’m not, I ain’t doing my job correctly, yeah?” He said, glancing down to Mark. 

 

Mark just shook his head, weakly. “You fucking would.” he hissed. 

 

“I would.” Bael replied, and he crouched down low, hovering over Mark. “Now why don’t we play a little game, sweetheart. I’ll be the Apache raider, and you be the Navajo babe.” He said, giving Mark a little wink. “Let’s hear you scream for me.” 

 

~~

 

Mark did scream. It took everything out of him but he couldn't help it. When that long blade came down he thought that was it. That Bael was going to slit his throat from ear to ear and that was going to be the end of it. He wished that could have been the case.

 

Bael took that knife and sliced through the shirt he was wearing, ripping it open and doing the same to the pants and unders he was wearing. He laid Mark out trembling and naked beneath him. Then he took that blade and made the first cut. 

 

It ran across his collarbone, drawing a thin line with the blood that bubbled up to the surface. Bael cut another line then, running from the center of that line all the way down to Mark's belly button, pressing that knife down there and watching with glee at the blood that came to the surface. Mark’s hands scrabbled at the sides of the little, makeshift grave, drawing lines in the dirt. 

 

Bael continued from there, moving wildly, making cut after cut across his skin. Across his stomach. On the insides of his thighs. Blood began to drip and congeal down his sides, mixing with the dust and adhering to his body.

 

Somehow he’d been under the impression that being ritualistically murdered wasn’t going to be any worse than literally everything else he’d been through, but hey, lesson learned. It can always get worse. It was really too bad he wasn’t going to be able to apply that lesson to anything. 

 

Bael paused for a moment, moving to slowly run a finger along the blade, gathering up the rivulets of blood he’d gathered there. Mark closed his eyes.

 

He grunted when the man kicked his legs apart, and felt those long fingers fumbling between his legs. He hissed in a breath between clenched teeth when one of those fingers, slicked up with his blood to ease the way, entered him. The blood did absolutely nothing to help. If anything, he thought, it made things worse.

 

He was so focused on what was happening to him, that Mark almost didn’t hear the rustling of an animal creeping nearby. Bael didn’t seem to notice it either, stabbing his fingers inward, probably bruising Mark’s insides as he did. Well, it wasn’t like Bael needed to be concerned for Mark’s comfort, after all. Mark was dizzy, his breath coming in fleeting bursts. He wasn’t going to survive this attack, he just knew it. Bael was hovering over him, far too close to Mark's comfort, he could smell the salt in his sweat, the general scent of sulphur ever present. 

 

He heard as Bael slide down his zipper and Mark braced himself for what he knew was coming next. Bael leaned down, biting his throat as he pulled his fingers out of him, leaving Mark open and vulnerable. The other man tugged his hips up. Mark thrashed a little, helplessly, he almost couldn’t control it, the way his body protested, but everything stilled when Bael finally pressed inside. 

 

“Fuck.” Bael mumbled against his skin, and Mark just felt sick. Sick. Tired, and in so much pain. His stomach convulsed and he might have thrown up if he’d had anything in him to expel. Bael hadn’t been kidding about being big, either, although it could just be him being on the verge hysterics, he thought to himself. It felt like the man was pressing his stomach into his lungs. He couldn’t fucking breathe. He felt dizzy, lightheaded. He felt Bael suddenly grab one of his wrists, pressing it up by his head, that knife laying laying flat across it in a mildly threatening manner.

 

Suddenly there was a loud hissing sound; it made Mark think of a rattlesnake. Something moved over him and attacked Bael, scraping it’s claws along the other man’s face. Bael pulled back with a shout, tugging himself out of Mark without care. Mark gasped, that feeling of Bael pulling out so suddenly he was pretty sure made his heart skip a beat. It hurt. He slammed his thighs closed as fast as he could manage, turning onto his side as he tried to curl into the fetal position.

 

Mark opened his eyes again and saw the Cersa’s little black cat crouched down beside him protectively, back arched, fur standing up and hissing madly up at the much larger demon. 

 

“Fucking stupid cat!” Bael was on his feet again, and he moved swiftly, kicking the cat away and sending it careening into a large stone nearby. Mark glanced up warily to see the man wiping a hand down his face. It should not have been as satisfying as it was to see those long claw marks scaring his cheek. 

 

“Well, alright then.” Bael said, loudly,  as he zipped himself back up, his voice reverberating through the nearby canyon. “Come the fuck on, cavalry. I know you’re here.” he said, his arms outstretched in overly dramatic welcome. 

 

Mark began to push himself up when he saw Milo’s blade sink into Bael’s chest, sending the other man stumbling back. As he did so he felt the man’s strong arms come down around his shoulders, gently tugging him out of the grave and setting him down nearby, his back against a large rock. Milo quickly checked him over but he didn’t have the time to do much else. Seeing that Mark was at least stable, he silently offered him his jacket, and Mark took it gratefully. Milo then turned his attention to Bael, and fuck, did Milo look pissed. It was kind of nice to have that savage energy pointed at someone else for a change.

 

“Stay here.” Milo instructed, and Mark nodded as he quickly pulled on the jacket that Milo had given him. As Milo moved away, Mark carefully leaned out and scooped up the small cat, pulling it into his lap as it began to come around. He didn’t care that Milo said it was just a familiar, and seemed to imply that it wasn’t even a real cat; that cat had fucking saved him, and had gotten kicked for its efforts. He was very gentle with it, brushing his fingers over its ears and head and he received a small, weak purr in return for his efforts. 

 

“How you holding up, kid?” Mark heard Cersa ask, as the woman dropped a large duffel beside him, dropped into a crouch, and began digging through its contents. Mark gave her a pointed look. 

 

“I feel like I’m fucking dying.” he told her, and she laughed at that.

 

“Well, good.” She decided. “That means you can only improve from here.” 

 

Mark wasn’t too sure he agreed with that. 

 

He turned his attention back to the fight, though he was finding it pretty hard to focus right then. Milo was putting up a good one, as enraged as he was, but, it didn’t seem like he was as strong a fighter as Bael was. He had the feeling that Milo had learned to rely a little bit too much to on his magic stunts, and that was fine, in places that are a little bit wetter, but they were out here, in the middle of a desert. There was only the barest amount of water around for miles. Mark tensed up a little as Milo took another charged up punch to the gut. He stilled though to have Cersa’s hand suddenly on his shoulder.

 

“Stay the fuck out of it.” She warned Mark sternly, and he wondered how the hell she seemed to know before he did what he was thinking. “He’s fine.” 

 

“But he’s….” Mark paused, watching as Bael seemed to summon up fire from nothing, and directed it to Milo. And Milo…. Yeah he was struggling with that attack. It seemed like it was getting harder for him to stand… 

 

Cersa shook her head, as she continued on with whatever she was doing, rearranging shit in her bag. “Just stay out of it Mark, can you trust me on this?” She asked.

 

Mark frowned, turning back to the fight. The cat purred loudly in his arms, seeming to be taking as much comfort in his presence as he was in it. Bael hit Milo with another one of those fireballs and Mark knew he needed help as Milo went down on one knee. 

 

“Cersa.” 

 

The woman shot him a hard look, but Mark didn’t even flinch. “Mark, I swear to shit fucking Christ if you get involved in this I’m going to slap the shit out of you, just sit the fuck down.” Cersa warned him, waving a finger in his direction and Mark returned the sentiment with a glare. 

 

“He’s your brother!” He protested, and gently placing the cat aside, much to its displeasure. He didn’t know what he was going to do, but he knew one thing for certain. He wasn’t going to just sit there and watch as Milo got torched to death. 

 

~~

 

Milo was breathing heavily, it was getting hard to keep his balance, but he knew it was nothing compared to what Mark had to be feeling. So he had to keep going, he had to keep the attention off of Mark and Cersa.  

 

“What do you think, Milo?” Bael asked, grinning. “Is this going to be it? Do I get to plant  _ you _ in the ground for a fucking change?” he asked. Milo blocked another hit, but just barely. He felt his skin searing with the heat, because of course Bael was charging his attacks. 

 

“You did real fucking good coming out here with the kid. So far away from what gives you your power. Real fucking smart.”

 

Milo didn’t rise to the bait. There was a reason he and his sister had kind of made Arizona their base of operations, so to speak. Cersa was working on that part of the plan, but was, according to his own opinion, moving way too fucking slow.  _ Hurry up, Cersa _ …

 

He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep being Bael’s punching bag. But he could certainly take it for longer than Mark could, so he had to keep the man’s focus on him. Had to. 

 

Milo was stunned to see Mark come up behind Bael and suddenly shove him, trying to get him to back up off of Milo. Cersa was supposed to be watching him, but so much for that, he guessed. Bael let out an outraged howl, and now he was looking much more like the demon he was than a man. He turned around and grabbed onto one of Mark’s outstretched wrists….

 

“Wait!” Milo called out, suddenly dropping his knife.  _ Fuck, where the hell was Cersa??? She had one job. Well, two jobs, maybe. _ “Wait, Bael. You wanted the chance to end me, huh?” He said, trying to get the man to focus on him again. “Let’s make a deal. You like deals.” He said.

 

Bael looked back to him, glaring. He still had a hold of Mark’s arm, which Milo didn’t like much, but so long as Bael was focused on him. “You leave Mark out of this, and I’ll give you a chance to end this, once and for all.” Milo said. “Come on, kill me, like you’ve always wanted. I won’t even fight you. Just leave Mark alone.” he said. 

 

“What?” Mark demanded, but Bael looked interested. 

 

“I know it’ll take you a while because you’re a fucking bitch, but I’ll give you like, 20 minutes to try.” Milo further taunted, because he knew that would really piss Bael off. 

 

“Fine.” Bael replied, seeming to fight past his rage just long enough to remember how to talk words. He let go of Mark’s arm and shoved him, hard, in the chest. “I accept your offer.”

 

“No! No…” Mark continued to move towards him, and it pained Milo to have to take a step back. 

 

“Mark, just get back with Cersa.” Milo warned the man, trying to keep him at a distance as Mark left Bael’s side and moved towards him instead. 

 

“No, fuck you, find another way!” Mark demanded. “You don’t get to pop into my life, turn everything I thought I understood upside down, and then pull this shit.” He decided. 

 

“Oh, I just love me a tearful fucking goodbye.” Milo heard Bael taunt him, but he ignored it, because in the middle of this discussion,  _ Mark had just gone and firmly placed himself between Milo and Bael _ . He wasn’t even sure that Mark understood what he was doing right then, but Milo wished that just for once, the man would listen to him and get out of the way. Milo had no intention of dying that day, and Mark would find that out soon enough.

 

“Mark, give me like five seconds…” Milo said, because he knew Bael wasn’t going to wait, and besides, looking directly over Mark’s shoulder he could see that plan d was now underway. 

 

“No.” Mark denied him again, but by now he was within arms reach. So Milo just sighed, pulled Mark into his arms, and dragged him to the ground, covering him as best as he could. Mark shot him a confused look as Milo couched over him, keeping an arm around Mark’s head to try and keep him protected as Cersa moved in on Bael with a vengeance. 

 

~~

 

To Mark it sounded like a tire backfiring, only a lot more than once, and repeatedly. He turned his head as much as Milo would allow him, just in time to see Cersa spotting the biggest fucking gun he’d ever seen, and she had the damn thing concentrated on Bael. Bael staggered with the hits as he was shot, repeatedly.

 

“Hey you!” She called out, waiting for Bael to properly turn around and look at her. It looked like he was hurting, which, frankly, good. Mark hoped she did worse. “Yeah, you; fuck you!” She shouted, tearing into him again, every shot ripping through the demons body. He tried to move towards her, holding a hand up to Cersa.

 

“Hey… Cersa… baby…” Bael tried, when Cersa stopped shooting him long enough to discharge her empty mag and go for a full one. “Let's talk about this.”

 

“Oh, now you want to talk.” Cersa nodded sarcastically, as she placed the next mag. “You didn't wanna talk back when I found out you were cheating on me with the fucking sex slave football team, but now all of a sudden you're like ‘hey honey, I love you, lets get couples counseling.’” She mocked him, as she shot him several more times, and the smaller holes became bigger ones. Mark watched as gore began drip out of the man, an artery launching out blood as a shot hit him in the neck. 

 

“I'm giving you a chance to not be making an even bigger mistake.” Bael tried, finally sinking to his knees. “Because when I come back from this, and you know I will, I've already died fucking twice today…” he wheezed a little, spitting out blood on the dirt.  “I'm gonna come back for the three of you.”

 

“Oh, I'm shaking.” Cersa replied, making sure she shot him in the mouth this time. “Come back, Bael, this time, we're gonna be fucking ready for you. And please, don’t keep me waiting.” 

 

She proceeded to unload her mag, and another, letting the spent casings build up in a pile. She kept at it, long after Mark was certain he was dead. And when she was done with that, she dropped the gun, pulled out a knife, and began. Individually. Cutting off his limbs. Mark had to turn away, because despite everything the man had done, the sight was beginning to make him sick.

 

Milo finally shifted himself up and off of Mark, determining that it was safe. He offered him a hand up and Mark quietly accepted, letting Milo pull him up. He swayed on his feet immediately, and Milo had to prop him up with an arm around his back.

 

Milo paused for a minute, looking over Mark's various new injuries. 

 

“You alright?” He asked, and Mark shrugged.

 

“No.” He admitted, because there was no point in lying about it. He wasn't kidding Cersa earlier when he said he felt like he was dying. He didn't even have the strength to catalogue his various injuries for Milo, either. He felt like they should be pretty obvious, just looking at him.

 

He gently tipped his chin up as Milo's fingers brushed his cheek, there was something so gentle in the movement that he couldn't help but follow it. When Milo crowded in he sank against the other man in exhaustion. He knew it wasn't over. Not by a long shot. But he felt like maybe, just maybe he could finally take a breather. It was nice to just let the other man take his weight, to relax against him. 

 

He was turned just slightly as Milo moved to sweep him into his arms, and this time he didn't even care. It just felt natural, now.

 

“That's good, fold his spine a lot. A whole lot.” Cersa piped in, and Milo sighed. 

 

“Could you quit kicking my ass for two fucking minutes.” Milo replied. “Besides, whatever fucking happened to crossfire?” He asked.

 

“You guys were fine, I wasn’t going to shoot you.” Cersa shrugged a little, as she finally stood up from where she was kneeling over Bael's body. Well, what remained of him. Cersa literally took him apart, his head separated from his torso, his torso from his arms and legs. Every joint she could get to broken off, leaving behind not much more than a bloody strain, slowly draining into the sand. And speaking of his blood she was covered in it, staining her sweater, her socks, her boots shining in the starlight from where his blood had adhered to the leather. If Mark had any energy or pity left in him, he might have been disturbed. He probably would be, later, after he'd the time to have nightmares over all of this.

 

“Right, according to you. Your song and dance would be completely different if it was a hailstorm or bullets sailing over YOUR head.” Milo replied, and he cringed when Cersa moved towards him, seeming to intentionally be trying to freak him out. She waved her bloody fingers at him, grinning at his reaction. “Why haven’t we lobotomized you yet?” Milo asked, and Cersa laughed.

 

“Because you need me, asshole.” Cersa put in. 

 

“Are you done here?” Milo asked, making it pretty clear he was just as disgusted as Mark felt he should be. 

 

“Oh yeah, we're good.” Cersa said, shaking her hands a little, like that would help clear the blood from them. A couple of larger droplets came off of her hands, but otherwise didn't help much. “We just gotta pack him up and get him back to the truck somehow. I'd ask for help but, you seem a little preoccupied with our damsel, there.” Cersa laughed a little.

 

“Quite preoccupied.” Milo agreed, turning his gaze back towards Mark with some concern. 

 

“Wait.” Mark jumped in, because he wasn't sure he was okay with where this conversation was headed. “We have to bring his body back with us?” He asked, and Cersa nodded. 

 

“Yeah,I got some ideas on how to finish this once and for all.” She said to Mark. “But for that,  need the body. We're gonna do us a little Necromancy.” She grinned at Mark, and he physically recoiled, because that was just about the creepiest thing he'd heard all day, and well, he'd heard a heckin’ lot of creepy shit that day.

 

“Don't worry, we're gonna put him in the truck bed.” Milo assured him. “We're not gonna let him be close to you. Never again.” He promised Mark.

 

“Thank god.” Mark whispered, dropping his head back to Milo's shoulder.

 

Cersa continued her grim task, while Milo saw about taking care of Mark, giving him water to drink (“Sip it slowly.” Milo told him firmly. “Or you’ll make yourself sick. Well. Sicker.”) and cleaning some of the more dangerous looking cuts. Mark hadn’t even realized how deep some of them had gotten. He’d been understandably preoccupied at the time. The ones that Bael had placed along his inner thighs ached the worst. Now that there was a lull in the constant running, everything was kind of catching up with him. There wasn’t an inch on his body that wasn’t aching, and he still had that dizzy, light headed feeling that made him think that if he didn’t lay down soon, he probably wouldn’t be able to make that choice for himself. His body was just going to shut down and pass out for him. 

 

“Once we get back…” Milo asked conversationally, as he gently ran a dampened piece of gauze against one of Mark’s cuts, loosening some of the dirt from the injury.. “What do we have to do to get ready for….” He gestured at the body. Cersa shrugged, waving around one of the disembodied arms that just so happened to be in her hand.

 

“First of all, I don’t want you guys fucking around with my work.” She said. “Do you still have that apartment in Scottsdale?” She asked. “Can you take Mark there, and, I don’t know, keep a low profile? But like, an actually low profile, not what you were doing before, half-assing it.” she said, using that arm in her hands to help make her point. 

 

Mark immediately had issues with that. “Wait.” he said, and hell. He was tired. He was beat the fuck up. But he wasn’t about to be shunted to the side, again, while people around him pulled at the strings of his life. “I’m not going anywhere, I’m going to see this through to the fucking end.”

 

Milo looked to Mark with worry. “Mark you don’t want to be there for this.” he said. “When he reanimates it’s going to be dangerous there. He could come after you again and I don’t want to risk-”

 

“Look.” Mark interrupted him. “Don’t make me explain this to you more than once because I don’t have the energy for it.” he said. “This motherfucker has officially made my life hell for, what, two days now?” he asked, shaking his head. It felt like it had been weeks at this point. “And everything he made me feel, the pain, the terror, the way he…” He closed his eyes again as the memory came crashing back. Laying out in the grave that man had dug for him, being held down by him when he…

 

“I have to see this through because if whatever this thing she’s planning goes completely tits up, I feel like if I’m there, there’s at least something I can do. This isn’t completely out of my hands.” he said. “I have to because the thought of him getting away, and trying this on me again, or, god forbid, on someone else….” he had to stop, because he noticed that he was shaking, just the idea of Bael moving onto to torture another innocent soul had him so stressed out that it was making him sick.

 

Milo gently leaned in, hushing him softly with soft lips brushing against his. And Mark? Well, against his better judgment, he might have leaned into it, just a little, sliding his hands up to Milo’s shoulders. If he was being perfectly honest with himself it was just nice to have someone touching him in a way that didn’t hurt him, or cause him pain, or had any other ulterior motives so far as he knew. He badly needed the comfort right then. And it didn’t last very long, or get particularly engrossing. It was just sweet. Mark stayed close to Milo after, dropping his forehead to rest against Milo’s neck.

 

“We’ll stay. We’ll finish this thing together.” Milo promised him then, and Mark nodded, gratefully. 

 

“Yeah, I like that you guys have kind of mutually decided you’re gonna invade my space without asking.” Cersa shrugged. “But that’s okay, I guess Daphnis and I will adjust.” 

 

Fortunately, it didn’t take much longer for Cersa to finish packing up the body. (She’d shoved Bael’s various bits and pieces into a garbage bag, which was fitting.) Soon after, the four of them began the march back to civilization. Even Daphnis seemed mostly recovered by then, and trotted along in between Cersa and Milo.

 

“Hey…” Cersa piped up. Milo glanced over to his sister. Mark was only sort of listening, the quiet sway of being carried in Milo’s arms was kind of putting him to sleep. “Do you remember that group of cops back on the highway?” She asked Milo. “Do you think they’re still there? How we gonna explain the dead body?” She asked, sounding way too cheerful about the situation for Mark’s liking.

 

“To be honest, I’m just hoping they didn’t tow your truck.” Milo told her, and Cersa groaned. 

 

“Oh my god. But we need it to not die.” She whined a little. “Do you think they did?” 

 

“Maybe, I don’t know.” Milo replied. “I’m pretty sure they don’t expect us to be coming back out of the desert in one piece.” He said. 

 

“I didn’t expect us to be coming back in one piece. I was pretty sure you’d have a dingo chewing on your tibia by now.” Cersa teased.

 

“Dingos are Australia, you ditz.” Mark threw out, but it was weak, he wasn’t even sure anyone heard it, but Cersa cackled anyways.

 

“Yeah, he’s gonna fit in great.” Cersa told her brother.

 

The sun was beginning to rise up out of the desert, and a new day was dawning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more thing I feel like I need to address. (Ho ho, you all thought I was done talking you to death, didn't you?) I guess tomorrow Mark's going to do a charity stream, and apparently he's just gonna keep going with it until it nets $500,000. God love this stupid, stupid man, that sounded to me like my concert days where we were like, hell yeah, over-nighter in Vegas, we're going to go down and there and see how long we can last without needing a hotel. (Like the stupid, stupid people we were. Are. Because I still occasionally fucking do this shit.) It all sounds great until you're on your sixth white Monster and your whole body is vibrating so fast that you've transcended time and people are moving around you in slow motion. 
> 
> So I tend to only give my money to organizations like the Bichon Rescue Brigade, Fostering a Purpose, or the Orphan Kitten Club, or even just trolling around various shelter's Amazon Wish Lists because I like animals more than I like humans, and I feel like since humans went out of their way to domesticate these creatures we bear the responsibility of caring for them. But you know what? If it will let Mark go to bed at some point this weekend, I will throw a few bucks at this homelessness cause, lmao. And I hope you will too. I'll probably stick around for the stream too once I get off of work tomorrow, whenever that is. I won't be chatting or anything because I don't do that. But I'll be there. Lurking. Like a creepy stalker I imagine, haha. 
> 
> Be there with you in spirit, and I'll see you in the next chapter.


	6. Fuck A Silver Lining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to read my impressions about the livestream last weekend (Lmao, why would you, I'm such a ditz) you can read the notes at the end of the chapter. This chapter is me trying as hard as I fucking can to be nice to Mark. (I'm trying guys, I'm making an effort, lmao.)

Finally able to relax, Mark dozed off and on on the way back. He woke up for a bit when he was placed in the truck, tucked between Milo and Cersa, who was going on pretty loudly about… something…. He had no idea. (“It's my fucking truck, you get in and you shut your whore mouth.”) It took Mark's addled brain a minute to catch up with him long enough to remember that she was still blood soaked up to her elbows, and when Milo climbed in beside him he scooted as far as he could into the man's personal space, just somewhat shy of being in his lap. 

 

And Milo just bared it, even though Mark figured he was dirty and hot and probably smelling not too great either, after his desert adventure. Milo didn't shy away, putting his arm around Mark's shoulders, letting the man curl into him a little. 

 

Milo turned on the a/c for him and let Mark rest against him, for which he was grateful. 

 

The drive back just seemed to take forever, and Mark was antsy the entire time. After everything he felt like he'd spent a full day just travelling from one spot to another, and mostly against his will. He was growing exhausted of the constant rolling motion. The air felt stale and he felt like ants were crawling along under his skin. He tried to relax as best as he could.

 

When the truck finally came to a stop, Mark finally felt like maybe he could breathe again. He had to lean pretty heavily on Milo for the man’s support, just to get out of the car; he was looking forward to when he didn’t need to do that anymore. He hated feeling so weak. 

 

Once the siblings got him into Cersa’s home, she took Mark’s arm, gently guiding him to a room towards the back of the house. “This is the guest room.” She told him, and she allowed him to carefully unhook his arm. “So you can head on in there, and we’ll get some shit together for you. Kaz can…”

 

“Thanks.” Mark told her flatly. “But no thanks.” 

 

Then he slammed the door in their both of their faces. He scrabbled just for a moment until he found the lock, then set it in place.

 

He turned around, leaning up against the door for a minute. Yeah, he had no illusions as to that being all it would take to keep the Wonder Twins out. Milo could certainly break down the door if he wanted. And speaking of Milo, he was kind of stunned at himself, he’d already kissed the man. Twice. But he was so fucked up from just, everything that he didn’t know if he was just being needy, or if he was actually starting to like the guy. And if he was starting to like him, then, why? Because his brain felt what he really needed was to add stockholm syndrome to his growing list of psychosis, apparently. 

 

Or maybe he was just finally breaking down, after everything. Now that he had a quiet moment to himself, and he could actually sort his feelings out a little. Which right then just seemed like he was a little on the hysterical side. 

 

He dragged his hands over his face breathing out slowly, and trying to orient himself a little. Figuring he’d sort out his shit later he looked over the small room. There was a bed, a vanity, a couple of bookshelves which all seemed to house books that were helpfully in another language. At the very least, the bedroom seemed to have it’s own bathroom off to the side, and that was nice, it meant he wouldn’t have to face anyone whenever he just needed to take a leak.

 

And speaking of which, he thought that maybe the fact that he didn’t strictly need to go right then ought to be a concern for him, or maybe he was just too tired to really pay attention to that. He wasn’t sure exactly how that worked, or he did, he was just having trouble with connecting the dots right about then. So he made his way over to the bed and just collapsed on it, face first. He was dusty, sweaty, and his skin was beginning to ache with the tell tale signs of a sunburn, but he didn’t care. 

 

He closed his eyes and fell asleep fairly quickly.

 

~~

 

Cersa shot a confused look over to Kaz, who just kind of sighed in response. “Damn he shut you down hard.” She said, and Kaz nodded. 

 

“He’s just… We’re still kind of working things out.” He said with a frown. 

 

“Yeah. You wanna…” Cersa paused, crossing her arms over her chest. “You wanna, run by me, exactly, how the two of you became a thing. Are you thing?” she asked. 

 

“Is it really any of your business?” Kaz asked, and Cersa snickered, jabbing a finger in his chest.

 

“I know that face.” She said, jabbing him again. “That is the face you make when you fucked the hell up and you don’t want to admit it.” The look on Kaz’s face just kind of proved to her how right she was. She slung the garbage bag of the various pieces of Bael’s body over her shoulder as she looked to her brother. “So, like, maybe you can explain all of that to me while you help me piece together the pissed off demon in the master bathroom. Then we’ll see if I can help you out with your performance issues, brother mine.” 

 

~~

 

“Yeah. Pft. Okay.” Cersa grinned a little. “That’s why he’s pissed. Just in case you were wondering. We live in the era of the hashtag Me Too movement, ya know. Today we’re all about informed consent and shit like that.” 

 

Kaz gave her a look as he continued to scrub his hands of the blood. “I thought you were going to help me out.” He told her, although, Cersa kind of had the feeling that he was humoring her more than actually looking for her advice, but that’s certainly never stopped her from giving her opinion before.

 

“I mean, it’s salvageable, you did save his life from the demon. Or you helped. That was mostly me.” And Kaz did shoot her a glare at that. “But that doesn’t mean this relationship doesn’t have a shot. It’s just…. It’s pretty slim. But hey, if Daenerys and Drogo can become a thing…. More or less….” Cersa shrugged. “Anything’s possible.” 

 

Kaz just stared at her and she grinned. “You never read those books did you?” 

 

“They came from you why would I?” He asked. 

 

“You’re so goddamn elitist.” Cersa smirked. “But I have a plan of action for you anyways.” She said. 

 

He raised an eyebrow at her, but he didn’t say anything. That meant to her that he was listening and she moved on. 

 

“Well, as you probably realize, he really shouldn’t be alone right now, as much as he probably wants to be.” She said. “And while I normally wouldn’t trust you with looking in on my patients and taking care of them, I feel like it might be a good bonding experience for the both of you.” She said. “So considering his great, outdoor overnight adventure, you’re going to have to get a lot of fluids into him and fast. You can get him some water, and I have a couple of fruits in the fridge you could give him. Strawberries, grapes, cucumbers, just, you know, stuff with a lot of water in it. You know those aloe plants I have outside? Cut off a branch and help get it on his skin for that sunburn. Aloe is fucking gold, I use it for everything. I also have some hydrogen peroxide, bandages, neosporin…” She went on. It took her a couple of trips, but she eventually had him loaded up with what she considered was the most pertinent of her list of supplies.

 

“You remember where I left the guest room key right?” She asked him, and Kaz nodded. “Good, try not to destroy anymore of my house.” She said. 

 

“I certainly can’t promise you that.” Kaz told her with a shrug. 

 

“You owe me a report when you’re done.” She reminded him and he rolled his eyes with a sigh.

 

“Cersa, I can handle this.” He assured her.

 

“Have fun grovelling, then.” She said, dismissing him with a laugh. 

 

~~

 

Mark wasn’t sure what was going on, but he knew he was being moved onto his back. He was still too out of it to really respond, but he was aware of things, which was just an odd sensation all around. He felt a hand on his forehead, seeming to feel for a fever, and he wondered if that was what was going on. Had he gotten sick? He felt oppressively hot. After a moment it was removed, and he felt a cold cloth replace it. He inhaled sharply at the feel of it, it was almost too much. Whoever was tending to him paused then, seeming to wait for some kind of reaction. 

 

“Mark?” He heard Milo question. And as much as Mark wanted to kick him back out of the damn room, he just felt… terrible. And whatever Milo was doing was helping, as much as he hated to admit it. 

 

“Don’t stop.” Mark said softly, his voice hoarse and cracking, and Milo acknowledged him with a soft noise. Milo took the cloth and continued to wipe down his face and neck, actually bothering to move behind his ears. He moved that cloth down his chest and that was the first time Mark realized that he’d been stripped down again. That jacket Milo had given him was gone, somewhere, and he wanted to be a little freaked out over it, not being covered, but so far, Milo seemed to just be trying to help him. He already felt cleaner, a little bit cooler too, not as sweaty and awful. Then Milo began to work over the cuts again and Mark whined, they fucking burned. Milo paused again at his reaction. 

 

“Talk to me.” he requested, placing a hand on Mark’s wrist. He placed his thumb over where Mark’s pulse would have been, and he wondered if the motion was meant to be comforting. 

 

“It hurts.” He complained a little. He opened his eyes then, glancing up to see the man sitting next to him on the bed, looking him over carefully. 

 

“How bad?” Milo asked, and Mark shrugged a little. 

 

“I mean, I guess it’s not terrible.” he said after a minute. “It just kind of burns.”

 

Milo picked up the piece of gauze he’d been using to clean the cuts. “Peroxide.” he explained. 

 

“Ah.” Mark replied. 

 

“I just wanted to make sure it’s not unbearable.” Milo told him. “You were really hot, and I didn’t know if it was the sunburn or if one of these cuts had gotten infected.” Milo studied him for a moment. “Do you think you’d be up to taking a cool bath?” He asked him.

 

“Definitely not.” Mark shook his head right away. He was still feeling pretty lightheaded, and passing out in a full tub just seemed like it would spell out trouble for him. 

 

“We’ll just clean you up out here then.” Milo replied quickly. “Or.... I could let you handle it.” He offered, and Mark held out his hand for the cold cloth, kind of appreciating the fact that Milo was giving him the opportunity to take care of all the embarrassing areas. As Mark set to work on finishing the job Milo had started Milo began to look over his various supplies sitting out on the vanity. 

 

“So, I’ve been instructed to get a good amount of fluids in to you.” Milo said, picking up a bottle that had been sitting on the tray.

 

“Jesus, don’t say it like that.” Mark replied, as he worked himself over. There were a few areas where the blood and sweat had just stuck to him like glue, and it took him a minute to really get the skin clean. He did his best to avoid the cuts, figuring that Milo would probably want to give them another look over before they were covered up too. Mark’s own hand paused when he realized the only place left to clean was where Bael had…

 

The memory of what he had been through came back on him with a vengeance. He tensed up hard, his body seeming to freeze up in the position he was in when the memory started. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. His hands were shaking from how hard his body tensed up. Mark didn’t realize how bad it was until Milo suddenly caught his wrist again. Mark startled, dropping the cloth and pulling away, as best as he could, but this time, Milo didn’t release him quite fast enough. But right as Mark felt the panic attack coming along, Milo slipped a bottle in his hands and Mark stopped, looking over what Milo had just handed him. 

 

“Pedialyte?” Mark asked, feeling the near panic attack begin to slowly drain out of him, and Milo finally let him go, drawing back again. 

 

Milo nodded. “It’ll help.” he encouraged the other man. 

 

Mark took the bottle and sank back a little, resting his back against the wall to the side of the bed. He opened the bottle that was just labelled ‘mixed fruit’ and took a sip. True enough, it tasted like some kind of fruit, but he supposed his palate wasn’t sophisticated enough to really identify it. Or maybe it was the opposite, maybe the flavor was just crap because that was all secondary to what the drink was supposed to be doing. 

 

“Sorry for being jumpy.” Mark said eventually, although he figured he really oughtn’t be the one apologizing here. 

 

“It’s fine. If anyone has a right to be so, its you.” Milo replied, as he came back to sit beside Mark, holding in his hand a rather long aloe leaf. He let Mark get a good look at it, before gesturing to his arm. “May I?” 

 

Mark shrugged a little, as he sipped at the drink. “Sure.” he said, holding out his free arm for Milo to rub down. Milo squirted out a little of the juice, before pressing it against sun-whipped skin. He had to admit that it helped, making him feel a little bit cooler. 

 

This was turning into kind of a weird moment for them. Mark didn’t know what to say, or if he should be saying anything. Milo was being very gentle with him, and he supposed that helped. What he couldn’t shake was the memories, the trauma. And he had told Milo that he was going to give him another chance, and he had meant that. To his credit, maybe, Milo had at least backed off a bit. He wasn’t being pushy. He had kissed him a couple of times, and Mark had kind of surprised himself in that he hadn’t been fully against it. But things were moving very fast, and the idea that just a few days before his life had been very different was just crazy to him. 

 

Milo spread some of the goo over his forehead and cheeks, and Mark sagged a little at the touch, like his energy was just sapped at the gentle movements. He could feel himself slipping back, but Milo was there to catch him, pulling him back to lay against Milo’s chest, while the man finished tending to him. Bandages were changed, cuts covered with medicine to help them to  heal. After everything he didn’t feel all that terrible anymore. Milo didn’t move from his spot, just placing some of the supplies he’d used for Mark on the floor, to be picked up later.

 

And afterwards he just kind of… held him. Milo slid his arms under Mark’s, crossing them over Mark’s chest, hands folded on his stomach, while Mark let his head rest on Milo’s shoulder. It was comforting, maybe a little domestic. 

 

Mark was close to dozing off again when Milo spoke up. “I’m… sorry.” He said, and Mark shifted a little, trying to actually look at Milo from his position. 

 

“For?” Mark asked. 

 

“For failing to keep you safe.” Milo said softly. “And… for everything.” He said softly, and Mark understood what he was really saying. 

 

“You don’t need to apologize for what Bael did…” Mark told him. “I, I actually believe that you did everything you could to stop him. For whatever that’s worth.” He said. “But everything before that…” Mark paused, because that was the part he was still having issues with. “Just forget it.” he decided after a minute. “Because I feel like I may go nuts if I spend too much time examining it.” he said. A real blank slate. He didn’t know how healthy it was to pretend like something like that didn’t happen, but he sort of understood that Milo had problems too. And instead of getting help, he’d been letting it fester, turned reclusive over dealing with his issues. And he was the one who’d agreed to giving him a second chance in the first place, and so far, when he really looked at it, Milo had been respectful of his boundaries after that. He could appreciate that.

 

Almost experimentally, Mark reached up a hand, letting it slide up on the far side of Milo’s neck. He slid his fingers into pitch dark hair, and Milo, interestingly, tipped his head in. Milo seemed to bury his face into Mark’s hair, and if anything, the man’s hold on him tightened, not enough to hurt, but he assumed, enough to keep him there. 

 

“I’m just glad you’re safe now.” Milo whispered. “You’re alive. And I’m going to do whatever I can to keep you protected.”

 

Well, right then, Mark believed it. He had a feeling that anyone trying to get to him in that moment was going to experience a world of hurt. And that actually was comforting. 

 

Mark dropped his hand, letting it rest over one of Milo’s arms. 

 

“I’m probably going to fall asleep soon.” Mark warned him. He was still so exhausted, felt so weak. Behind him, he could feel Milo nod.

 

“I’ll be here until you do.” Milo promised him. 

 

Mark nodded softly and closed his eyes again.

 

~~

 

Mark jerked himself awake, his breathing hot and heavy, his heart was pounding way too fucking fast. He knew he’d been having a nightmare, but he couldn’t remember the details. Everything was too foggy. For some reason his reaction was to search out for Milo but he wasn’t there. Where the hell was he? 

 

Mark searched out for the light and eventually found it on the wall by the door. When he glanced around the room his eyes finally settled on his backpack, sitting on the edge of his bed, and he figured that Milo had probably set it out for him. 

 

He dug around in the pack and quickly pulled out a sweater and a pair of pajama pants. Once he donned this sort of half-assed outfit he left the room, in search of the other man. 

 

It was dark in the house, and quiet, and Mark’s nerves were shot. He couldn’t help but feel like he was back in one of those spooky video games he usually played. He saw a light flickering in the living room and so he headed there. 

 

As he suspected he found Milo curled up on one of the sofas, a book in his lap. He seemed to be reading by the light of the television, which was on… Mark looked over to what was playing and saw what looked to him like an infomercial. But Milo didn’t seem to be paying it any attention. 

 

“Milo?” He said softly, gaining the man’s attention. Milo looked up from his book, setting it aside quickly and moving to get up.

 

“Mark?” He asked, as he moved in close to the other man. 

 

Mark opened his mouth to say something and just… closed it back up again. He then leaned in, letting his head hit Milo’s chest with a whine. Milo was quick to wrap his arms around him, guiding him backwards to the sofa. Milo kept his arms around him as they sat back down together, keeping Mark close. 

 

“What happened?” Milo asked, and Mark shrugged. 

 

“I think it was a nightmare.” Mark said softly. “I woke up and you weren’t there.” he said, looking up to the other man, and guilt seemed to wrack his features. 

 

“I’m sorry.” he said. “I’ve been helping Cersa with her…. Project.” he said, making a bit of a face. “And then when we were done with that, I wanted to come back, but I was worried to wake you.” He said.

 

“It’s okay.” Mark tried to assure him. “I think it was just disconcerting. New place. Bad dreams.” He frowned a little. 

 

“Do you want to tell me about it?” Milo asked, and Mark shook his head. 

 

“I can’t remember it, so. Nothing to tell.” Mark shrugged a little. “Maybe if I can remember it I can tell you.” He offered. “I just don’t want to be alone right now.” he admitted. 

 

“Well, I’m not against spending time with you.” Milo told him with a smile. “You can keep me company here, or, we could go…”

 

“This is fine.” Mark told him immediately. Mark turned his eyes back to the screen, making a bit of a face when it suddenly seemed like the announcer voice got weirdly loud. “What are you watching?” He asked, and he didn’t even think twice about grabbing the remote and changing the channel. 

 

“Nothing, actually.” Milo replied. He kept his arm around Mark’s shoulder, watching as he flipped through the channels, trying to find something decent. “I was reading.TV is just background noise.” 

 

“What are you reading?” Mark asked, peering over at the book that Milo held up for him to appraise.

 

“ _ Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter _ . Wait, really?” Mark asked, shooting Milo a look that he was certain was laden with judgement. But Milo was entirely serious. Mark raised a hand dragging a finger along his upper lip as he tried to figure this out. “Okay. You’ll read that…. But the Bond movies…” He pulled his hand away. “Too ridiculous for you?” 

 

“Well, I was a great…. I suppose you could say, that in life, I greatly admired his work. And this book, yes, it certainly has its camp moments, but they’re intentional. It goes about the whole vampire mythos in a way that’s clever and entertaining. And the ending is rather hopeful. I’d like to think that he’s still out there in the same capacity as the book hints at, because yes, some men are too interesting to let die. As the immortal Henry Sturges would say.” Milo replied, and Mark’s brain took a second to catch up with him. Right, Milo was a couple thousand years old. He would have been around in Lincoln’s time. “I actually had a chance to see him, once, but I ended up having to pass on it, sadly.” Milo hummed a little. “And then, well. I can say that I deeply regretted missing the opportunity.” Milo said tastefully. 

 

“No shit.” Mark replied, setting the TV to Boomerang and sinking back against the other man. Because despite everything, some things never changed, like the fact that he was secretly still a child inside. “I don’t know what else you had going on, but I think I might have gone to meet the awesome, slavery ending president.” 

 

“It’s not like we knew at that time how important he was going to be.” Milo pointed out. “You don’t realize you’re living in a historical moment until much later.” he said. “Besides, I think what else I had going on was impossibly more important. Well, to me, at any rate.” he said. 

 

“What was it?” Mark asked, and Milo smiled, looking a bit…. Regretful, actually.

 

“I went to meet with Emma.” Milo said softly, and Mark looked to Milo.

 

“You keep saying that name, but you never really told me… anything about her.” Mark said. “I get that you don’t really want to talk about it, but I mean. I’m curious.” 

 

Milo sighed a little. “I know. And one day I’d like to tell you about her. But for now.” he said, shifting a little. “Ask me something else.” he requested instead. 

 

Mark frowned a little, but he dropped it, at Milo’s gentle request. If he wanted Milo to honor his boundaries, he needed to be respectful of the other man’s after all.

 

So he decided on a more fun line of questioning.  “Are vampires real?” Mark asked him. 

 

“Yes, but if you were planning on going back to sleep at some point without nightmares, you might not want to know about that.” Milo replied. Mark looked to him, surprised. 

 

“You’re pulling my leg.” 

 

“I most certainly wouldn’t lie about that.” Milo insisted. 

 

“Well how come we don’t hear about them?” Mark challenged. 

 

“Because they keep to their territories and police their own population strenuously.” Milo replied. “Resources have always been a big thing for them, and they know if they allow their population to get out of control, it will begin to invoke notice from the local human population. It can be difficult to go out and get a cheeseburger when the cheeseburger is actively trying to kill you.” Milo said. 

 

“I guess that would make it difficult.” Mark agreed. 

 

“I can introduce you to one at some point, if you’d like. I have an old friend with connections.” Milo said.

 

“I’m not sure I’m ready for that. Meeting each other’s friends seems like a step above our current commitment level, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that.” Mark replied. 

 

“You’ve already met my sister.” Milo pointed out.

 

“Yeah, and she scares the bejesus out of me.” Mark continued. 

 

“Fair enough.” Milo replied. “But don't go telling her that, it'll go straight to her head.” He said.

 

“Um….” Mark trailed off, trying to think of another question. “Is there a possibility that Abraham Lincoln actually could be alive somewhere?” He asked. 

 

“Oh no, he's very,  very dead.” Milo assured him. 

 

“That's disappointing.” Mark hummed a little. “Well if vampires are real, demons, gods and goddesses… what else is out there?” Mark asked. 

 

“You can safely assume that whatever it is you're imagining, it exists because it has at one point in time left an imprint on the human imagination. And while the retelling of it isn't always accurate, at least for some of it, it is based on fact.” Milo replied.

 

“Werewolves.” Mark tried.

 

“Their supposed animus for vampires is overdramatized.” Milo shrugged. “And most of them aren't even wolves.” 

 

“This is so weird.” Mark replied. “Slenderman?” He tried, because that one did occasionally did keep him up at night.

 

Milo gave him a look at that. “Are you kidding?” He asked.

 

“So we're safe from him?” Mark asked, and Milo snorted.

 

“Just don't let any solid spellcaster know he's a thing that frightens you and you should be good. I've seen unimaginable beings brought to reality ripped straight from people's nightmares after crossing the wrong witch.” 

 

“Witch?” Mark asked. “Like the ones I met in college?” he said. 

 

“Those amateurs hardly hold a candle to the real thing.” Milo snorted. “And they really ought to be more careful, summoning powers they don't fully understand.” 

 

“Scary.” Mark said, shifting a bit in his seat. He was just trying to make himself more comfortable, he wasn't actually all that nervous about it. But Milo tugged him in anyways, seeming to be trying to soothe him. 

 

“You have nothing to fear.” Milo told him right away. “You have me to guard you now.” He said.

 

Mark wanted to say that that hadn't always worked out in his favor, but it kind of seemed rude. Besides, he thought the sentence might have triggered something in his memory. 

 

“The dream I had… the nightmare?” He said after a moment. “It was about Bael.” He said. 

 

Milo nodded softly, but he didn't say anything, which Mark was appreciative of. It was an invitation for him to say what he needed to, and to clear his head. 

 

“I dreamed that he had me and I couldn't escape. His plan had worked, and he dragged me with him into…” he shivered a little. “I don't know,  but it was dark. Cold. I tried to scream but I couldn't. I tried to find you but I was so lost.” He continued. Mark settled a little at the steadying hand on his back. Milo was trying to keep him grounded, and it was working. 

 

“What else happened?” Milo asked, and Mark had to pause, really thinking about it. 

 

“You came for me.” He said after a moment. Mark raised his eyes back up to the other man. Milo smiled softly at that. 

 

“And I always will.” Milo promised.

 

The two of them shifted after that. Mark wasn't even sure how it happened, but the next thing he knew he was sitting in Milo's lap, resting his head against the other man's shoulder, the book in his lap for Milo to scan. Milo tried to offer him the remote again but Mark shook his head, uninterested. 

 

“You ought to read it to me if I'm going to be holding it for you.” He said, and Milo snickered softly. 

 

“Have you ever read it before?” Milo asked, and Mark shook his head. 

 

“Naw. But I've seen bits and pieces of the movie.” And Milo groaned. 

 

“I never bothered with the movie. I didn't want it to change my perception of the book.” He said. “I'll start over from the beginning for you.”

 

“I'd appreciate that.” 

 

Mark stayed like that as Milo read to him, letting the soothing baritone of his voice comfort him. He was less listening to the actual words than he was letting the hum deep in Milo's chest as he spoke vibrate warmly against his cheek. The last thing he heard before he began to really doze off again was a young Abraham Lincoln writing in his journal about his promise to kill every vampire in America. 

 

~~

 

The next time Mark woke up he was laying on the sofa, what seemed to be a hand stitched yarn blanket thrown over him. He wondered what had woken him, and it didn't take him long to realize.  _ The People's Court _ . 

 

Mark began to sit up, looking again for Milo, and paused, realizing that Cersa's little black cat Daphnis had taken up residence on his lap, and was quietly kneading him through the layers of fabric. Sitting in an oversized rocking chair nearby was Cersa. She was snickering at the bickering happening on screen, as she thumbed through a magazine, with what looked like Chris Hemsworth posing on the cover. 

 

“Cersa?” Mark said, and she glanced over, smiling.

 

“Hey, honey.” She said. She hummed a little, flipping over a page in her magazine. “How you feeling?” She asked. 

 

“Like I'm dying.” Mark said, moving to sit up slightly, even though the position was awkward with Daphnis holding his hips down. “But… maybe it's a little better.” He added. As he took better stock of himself, he realized he had much less vague complaints to convey to her. Everything was sort of slow coming together that afternoon. “Monster of a headache.” He admitted. 

 

“Yeah. I'm not surprised.” Cersa replied. “You've just kind of been sleeping everything off. And that's fine and all, and that's really the only way your body is going to heal but…” she looked to him. “You need to eat something.” She said in a way that made it seem like that wasn't up for argument. “When was the last time you've eaten? Couple of days?” She asked, and Mark nodded. But he didn't think that could really be blamed on him, between being transported from place to place, the constant running he'd been doing. 

 

“I sent Kaz to the store to pick something up. He asked if i would watch you in his absence.” She said. “We're gonna start you off a little slow though. Reintroduce certain foods slowly, so your body doesn't just up and reject it. What's your feelings on chicken soup?” She asked. 

 

“I'm not against it.” Mark said, and she smiled a little.

 

“Good. Milo happens to be really good with chicken.” Cersa told him. “I usually add like, a gallon of sriracha to mine, but like i said. We're starting you off slow, so nothing too spicy for you. But you can work your way up.” 

 

Mark nodded, spying Milo's book on the floor. It was open to the page Milo had been reading to him, and face down. Mark realized then that Milo was the type of person to crack the spine of a book to hold his place, rather than to do anything sensible, like use a damn bookmark. He could see several other places in the book's spine where the ink had cracked because of Milo doing that very thing over and over. Mark shook his head at Milo's heathenous tendencies. 

 

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Mark said then, looking over to cersa, and she shrugged a little.

 

“I may not have the answer you're looking for but you can try.” She said. 

 

Mark shifted a little on the cushion, despite Daphnis’ complaints about him doing so, but if Mark had to sit there with his spine curved to protect a cat's feelings he knew he was probably going to be really grumpy about it later. So he made himself comfortable, letting Daphnis jump to the floor with a disgruntled sound, and looked over to the brightly dressed woman.

 

“Tell me about Emma.” He asked.

 

Cersa made a sound at that, something between a snort and a cough. She downright looked uncomfortable if Mark was being honest. 

 

“You're walking straight into the hornet's nest of questions here.” She warned him. “Jumping onto the cart before the horse is even attached. Besides… it's not really my story to tell. I didn't even meet her until… well, right before her demise.” Cersa said. 

 

“Well, Milo won't talk to me about it.” Mark said.

 

“Yeah, I bet.” Cersa chimed in. “He doesn't want to scare you.” 

 

“See, you saying stuff like that scares me.” Mark said, and Cersa shrugged. 

 

“Fair enough.” She said, closing her magazine. She hummed a little, scratching at her chin as she tried to think of a way to answer his question. 

 

“Emma was… angelic.” she finally said, looking to Mark. “Which is a weird way to describe someone I guess. She was human. But she was sensitive. Felt the plight of others very deeply. She loved very deeply. And my brother fell hard.” She said. 

 

Mark tried to imagine it.  Cersa continued. 

 

“She had brown hair, blue eyes. There weren't many teaching positions for women back then, but she badly wanted to work with kids, and eventually have children of her own. I have no idea how she met Kaz. He was living in the colonies at the time, but I guess she came up from the South.” She shrugged. “Random chances, right? She knew all his secrets, accepted him for who he was. Kaz had had a smattering of relationships over the years, but her he was attached to, which was just bizarre to the rest of us.” She said. “In our personal circles, and in front of the pantheon, things got heated, and Kaz began to just visit her. Which mom didn’t like, but hey. He was my brother, I was never going to tell him how to live his life.” She said. She tipped her head to the side, thinking things over.

 

“Come to think of it, she never called him Kaz either. Or anything else we always called him. She called him Robert.” She laughed a little. “It was like…. Robert Franklin. I think she picked it.” she said.

 

“I cannot imagine him as a Robert.” Mark smirked a little. He was probably going to tease him with it later.

 

“Right?” Cersa said, and paused her story just long enough to let Daphnis jump up into her chair and knock her magazine onto the floor. Cersa just went along with it like it as something that happened all the time, moving to give the cat some soft pettings instead. “Anyways. Kaz was setting up to live the good life with her. Bought a house somewhere in Virginia. I think he still owns it, it was nice. He’d go on little vacations with her. Picnics after church every Sunday. He very much didn’t believe anything that was preached about, but you know, if you didn’t show up to church on Sundays people would talk.” Cersa rolled her eyes. “It was just kind of amazing seeing him putting out that kind of effort for a girl. A human girl!” She said, then looked over slowly to Mark. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.” She added quickly, and Mark snorted 

 

“Right, I get it, I get it, I’m the lowly mortal. I’ve heard it a lot over the past couple of days.” He said, waving a hand at her in a mock offended air. 

 

“Well, no offense.” Cersa shrugged. “That’s just kind of how it is. How it’s viewed.” She said. “No one even questions it, and when you grow up hearing that kind of thing, having to hear that they’re our equals begins to sound like the ridiculous argument.” She said. 

 

“But anyways, back to me.” Cersa said, waving off the look Mark was giving her. “My story, that’s…. Not really my story, but I’m telling it anyways, so let’s get the focus back on me. Anyways, one day Emma just kind of up and disappeared. And I’m not sure what the entire circumstances were. She went home to her mother for some reason, and never came back. And Kaz just about lost his damn mind.” Cersa recalled. “And we knew Bael was still kind of picking on him, but he’d never actually gone after anyone close to him like that before, so we didn’t call it right away. And Kaz searched for her everywhere. He even petitioned the Queen of the Underworld. Mom was pretty unhappy when she heard that. But I guess it worked out in his favor, because she took pity on Kaz and promised to alert him if Emma ever crossed over.” She said. 

 

“So what happened to her?” Mark asked. 

 

“Well, she never crossed into her territory.” Cersa said. “A couple of months later they found…. Well. They found pieces of her.” She said, and she looked pretty uncomfortable telling him this part of the story. Mark’s heart sank. “In the church that she and Kaz would go to. The priest opened the doors one day to light the candles for the early morning mass and he found a trail of gore that lead from the door to the altar.” She said. 

 

“He was an old man, and the sight was so bad that he passed out and just died a couple of days later. Emma was just barely recognizable. Whatever Bael had done to her those months he had her, he must have tortured her cruelly.” She said. “She was laid out on the altar, spread eagle, missing her limbs, breasts, organs. They found pieces of her in the reliquary, for fucks sake. In the confession booths.” Cersa continued, her face twisted in disgust. “There wasn’t an inch of that church that wasn’t stained with her blood. People called it the work of the devil, and honestly, they weren’t far from the truth.” Cersa said. “But you know the really fucked up part?” She asked, looking to Mark. “She’d been pregnant at the time.” 

 

“Holy fuck.” Mark replied, placing his hand over his chest as he looked to Cersa in horror.

 

She nodded. “Exactly.” She said, pointing to Mark. “Actually. Literally. They found the poor babe ripped out of her womb and mangled, laying in the manger in place of the little Jesus statue.” She said. “No one knew she was pregnant, there wasn’t like a magic way to figure this out back in the day. So that’s how Kaz found out. He lost his son the same day the he found out he existed.” She said. 

 

Mark stared at Cersa for a minute. “I might be slightly more terrified now.” he said. 

 

Cersa nodded, pointing in his direction again. “Can’t say I didn’t warn you.” She said. 

 

“I can’t.” Mark agreed. “You…. you right.” He replied, tugging at the hem of his sweater nervously.

 

Cersa nodded. “People talked about for years. I remember people wondering when the Jack the Ripper thing started to happen, if maybe it wasn’t the guy that killed Emma back in the states. Like maybe he’d fled the country.” She said. 

 

“Really?” Mark asked. “Do you think Bael was Jack the Ripper?” he asked her, thinking about that ‘From Hell’ letter. That seemed like just the sort of stunt Bael would pull. 

 

“Oh, no.” Cersa dismissed immediately. “Jack the Ripper was after the lowest of the low. Back in the day that was those poor sex workers. Their souls were already damned, according to popular opinion. Bael prefers innocent victims. People with good souls.” She said to Mark. “Take yours, for example.” She said.

 

“Me?” Mark asked her. “What do you mean?” 

 

“I googled you during part of the car ride yesterday.” Cersa told him, smiling a little. “You seem so vibrant, full of life. Wanting to bring hope to others. All those charity streams.” She mused. “You’re a good person, Mark. That just doesn’t do you any favors out here.” She noted. 

 

“I never really considered myself…. That.” Mark told her, growing a little uncomfortable with where this conversation was headed.

 

“Doesn’t matter, really. Darkness will always be attracted to light. It’s like the law of the universe. We seek to corrupt it.” Cersa said. “It’s what we wicked, wicked people do.” She said. “Emma was good too. She had a soft spot for people who were hurting. She would pack extra lunches for the children in her class whose parents couldn’t afford to send them off with food. She paid out of her own salary to make sure everyone had the supplies they needed to keep up with her lessons.” Cersa shrugged. “She was a phenomenally loving person, and look what it got her.” 

 

“Do you expect me to stop doing what I’m doing?” Mark asked, and Cersa looked to him. 

 

“Would you listen to me if I said ‘yes?’” She challenged. Mark didn’t answer her. She already knew the answer. She shook her head. “I don’t think you should stop.” She finally told him at length. “Just be careful.” She finally advised. “Kind souls are more susceptible to being taken advantage of. We still don’t know how Bael lured Emma away, but I’m willing to bet he asked her for help with something.” She shrugged, moving to grip one of the curls in her hair, playing with it between her fingers. “A little cynicism never hurt anyone. Besides, I’m not too sure Kaz can deal with another loss like that.” 

 

After all of that, Mark knew he needed to change the topic. “So. What in the hell did you do with Bael?” 

 

Cersa smirked a little, in a way that Mark didn’t exactly appreciate. “Bathtub. Master bedroom.” She replied. “Stay the fuck out of there unless you want to be haunted by the vision in your nightmares.” She said. “The smell’s not too great either, I’ve actually been sleeping in the backyard because of it. So if you don’t want to stay out of their for your own sanity, do it for mine, because you’re just going to stink up the rest of the damn house.” She added. 

 

“Ah.” Mark replied, looking to Cersa like she was nuts, which, well, she may well might have been. “And you’re going to do what with it? The body?” He asked. 

 

“Well, I have to let it reanimate a little bit.” Cersa said. “So I can begin the process of binding him to this plane. We can’t just keep killing him, because he’s never going to stop coming at you. So if we trap him in an object up here, he won’t die, and he can’t come back. Does that make sense?” She asked. 

 

“Trap him in an object?” Mark asked. “Like…. The genie in the lamp?” He asked her. 

 

“Yeah. Exactly like that, except he’d be a bad genie. No, bad equivalency. It’s more like a Pandora’s Box sort of thing.” She said. “So you and Kaz, when you go out tonight, you need to find some kind of a container that no one would ever want to open. Like, I don’t know. Box of used condoms or something.” Cersa said.

 

Mark blinked. “Wait.” He tried to process again what she was saying. “There are so many questions I have about that statement you just made.” 

 

“Which part, the whole date with Kaz part, or the you guys need to find a suitable container to keep a violent demonic entity which you want to never escape?” She asked. 

 

“Uh, both, actually” Mark said, looking vastly uncomfortable. He was still feeling pretty awful, honestly, and he didn’t really want to go anywhere, much less shopping around for a container for the shitty demon lord. 

 

“Well, thing is, I have a hot date tonight.” Cersa replied, as she lovingly stroked Daphnis’ back. “And if things go right, I’m going to need to bring him or her back here. And my bedroom is very much out of commision, so we’re going to need the guest bedroom.” Cersa replied. “Which means I’m kicking both you and Kaz out of the house for the night. And I don’t care what you do,  but you can’t stay here.” She said. “Oh, wait, no, I partially care. Get a container.” She said, shaking her finger at Mark. 

 

“Hm, yeah, him or her, huh?” Mark asked, looking to Cersa. “Why do I get the feeling that you haven’t even met this hot date yet.” 

 

“Clever boy.” Cersa grinned. “Don’t question my methods. I’m going out tonight, gonna meet someone delectable, and bring them home.” She said. 

 

“You’re pretty confident.” Mark noted. 

 

“Oh, I have reason to be.” She said, shooting him a seductive glance. “I have my ways. I get what I want. Gonna find me a nice pet and have me a good time. Do it all the time. And especially now, when I’m stressing out over dead demons hanging out in my bathroom, yeah. I need the stress relief.” She said. 

 

They both looked up when the front door opened. Milo walked into the room, realizing that both Mark and Cersa were quietly staring at him, both pausing in their conversation as soon as he walked in. Milo looked between the two of them, confused. “Did I…. interrupt something?” He asked. “Should I come back in five minutes?” he asked, and Mark shook his head instantly. 

 

“No, nope!” he said, throwing off the blanket and getting up from the couch, moving to Milo. He threw his arms around Milo’s neck, letting the other man catch him with a strong arm circling his waist. He had to stand up on his toes to do it, but he managed to whisper in Milo’s ear. “Never leave me alone with this psychopath again.” 

 

Milo gave Mark a confused look, then looked over to Cersa. “I told you not to scare him.” He said. 

 

“I have no idea what you mean, my dear brother.” Cersa replied, moving to swipe up her magazine from the floor, giving Daphnis time to jump down from her lap. “I’m going to start getting ready, let me know when the soup’s done.” She said, shooting her brother a wink, as she headed off, presumably to prepare for her date.

 

Mark just kind of held onto Milo for a moment. It was kind of weird, after hearing all of that. Mark kind of felt like he needed to comfort  _ him _ . Milo seemed to sense it too, pulling back a little to really get a good look at Mark. 

 

“Are you alright?” Milo asked him, concern etched on his face. “What happened while I was gone?” 

 

Mark shook his head. “Nothing. Nothing at all.” he said, looking to the other man with what he hoped was a convincing smile. “Just missed you. That’s all.” 

 

“You missed me?” Milo asked. Without releasing Mark, he picked up the bag of groceries that was sitting close to the door, then pulled the front door shut with that same hand. “Did your fever come back or something?” he asked.

 

“Naw, I don’t think so, anyways.” Mark told him. “Honestly, just missed you.” he said, and he was kind of enjoying the look of confusion on Milo’s face at that. 

 

“Okay” Milo said after a moment. “Let’s…. Let’s get lunch started.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I actually kept a couple of notes as an observational thing during this livestream. (Is that creepy? It might be creepy, but I'm going to call it research for future fanfictions, because believe it or not, I'm actually beginning to have other ideas for this bizarre couple.)
> 
> I will say that I got up super, super early on Saturday, not for the livestream, but because I had an interview that day, so I was up on the dot at 5am. I got around, went to the interview, came home and tuned into the livestream just in time for Mark to announce that he'd sleep when he's dead. (Lmao, it's so precious seeing him this ornery, honestly. I'm speaking as the master of staying awake beyond what's probably healthy for me.) So I made an anonymous donation and promptly turned him off because now I had to get ready for work. So I got around, did my shift, came home around 4:30, and after I showered I put him on the big screen in my bedroom, because as we all know, I do the extra. At some point my sister came in to keep me company because she knew I'd been sick all week and I think she just wanted to keep me company. She asked if I'd donated and gotten a shout out of some kind from him and I was like, well, I donated, but I didn't stick around to see if he called me out or anything, and my sweet sister, I swear to god, she shot me the dirtiest look. Like why would you do that and not stick around to see if he noticed, and I was like, wtf, excuse me, sis. Like why do I need Senpai to notice me. I'm a strong, independent yandere, and frankly, I don't need him to notice me considering the types of fanfictions that I write, *cough.* And my sister continued to treat me like I was nuts, to the point that I began to wonder if I should try to donate again. But that sounded super pathetic to me, so I decided, fuck it. I'm going to leave it up to the gods. If I should donate again and go for the gold of Senpai noticing me, they will give me a sign.
> 
> So I stayed up, watching the stream. I love how some of you guys were asking him around 6:30pm if he was okay. (I like checked the time and I was like, seriously?) It was around 2am when he started to fade and you all know that was shit I was living for. I was there for the slow descent into madness. That's my favorite part of everyday. My favorite part of any event I attend is when shit begins breaking down. Guys, you all should have seen me at Disneyland when the Winter Fantasy Parade broke down and they had to send a tow for one of the floats, guys, I was living. Anyways I think it was around 3am when Mark announced that for every donation of $4.20 to the charity he was going to hit himself to try and stay awake. 
> 
> And I heard my calling.
> 
> Do any of you guys know that Alice Cooper song "Poison" and there's that one line? "I wanna hurt you just to hear you _screaming_ my name" Oh yeah, I assigned my real name to that donation, and yeah, when he shouted it it was exactly as satisfying as you think it is. 
> 
> So, I might have learned a couple of things. #1, I've gotten really fucking good at reading people. That 2am breakdown when he began dishing on his issues was all stuff I was beginning to suspect. #2, I am kind of a sadist. There's really no point in trying to deny it, just be glad I usually channel that energy into my writing, lmao. And #3, he has us all fucking trained, and you better watch out, because now he knows the extent of it. The next time he wants to do some big charity thing all he has to do is make some kind of mild threat to himself, and we as a community are going to band together to try and save him from himself. Oh yeah, I see you Mark, you fucking asshole, devious knows devious, okay? And I mean, it's fine, it was for a good cause this time, but I'm onto you. 
> 
> Like he's gonna be fucking reading this or something, lmao. Sometimes I don't even know what my brain is doing.


	7. Eye of the Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I feel like at this point, it's safe to say, that this monster is going to be finished. I am going to finish this thing. I have exactly ONE. CHAPTER. LEFT. And I'd prefer to get into that at the end of this chapter so let's just. Do this thing. Lmao.

Lunch was a…. Well, it happened. Milo surprised him by actually being a pretty decent cook. Mark wasn’t sure how that translated, him being a sea-creature, but he knows how to cook. Milo was turning into a living contradiction, and while one would think that would make him more difficult to figure out, Mark thought that maybe he was beginning to understand him a little bit better. 

 

Cersa was going to be the wildcard. 

 

She spent most of the meal talking, asking him questions about his likes, his dislikes, his history, and Mark thought that maybe he could understand that. He was apparently in “a relationship” with her brother now, she was probably trying to figure him out. But whenever he’d turn it around on her, he ended up having to rely on Milo’s input on some of the more outlandish things she was telling him. (“She’s lying.” Milo would say. “She’s trying to freak you out.”)

 

“You know Hera didn’t actually turn him into a constellation, that’s like how you’d sugarcoat something for a baby so they don’t have nightmares. Like that whole addendum to Little Red Riding Hood, where the huntsman comes along and cuts Red and her Grandma out of him. You know that fucking wolf didn't just unhinge his jaw and swallow a whole fucking child and old lady, someone's stupid kid started crying and the parent was like, ‘oh no, sweetie, its okay, the huntsman saved them. This character who was never mentioned at all in the story up until this point? Totally saved them.’” She snorted. “Hera killed the shit out of him. And Zeus just kind of went with it. She’s kind of like the original psychobitch.” Cersa told Mark. 

 

“I mean. If you’d ever met her husband…” Milo trailed off a bit. 

 

“I mean, yeah.” Cersa put in. “But you’d think she’d kill him instead of all of his various lovers, which she totally did, I don’t care what the stories say.” 

 

“I find absolutely none of this comforting.” Mark replied, dropping his spoon back into his empty soup bowl. Just the whole idea of it, humanity being the playthings of these obscenely powerful beings. It made him wonder what the hell else was going on in the world that they didn’t even know about. 

 

“I mean. You don’t really have too much to worry about, I don’t think.” Cersa replied, and she seemed to be really enjoying his unease, here. “Kaz is a good protector. No one's ever really fucked with our family. Between Kaz and dad, they always kind of wanted to be on our good sides. Well I mean. Except for Bael. Bael’s the exception that proves the rule. Kaz is talented, just not that good at not destroying my house.” She shot him another look. 

 

“I already fixed it. I mean. There’s still some patching up to do, but it’s nothing to really worry about.” Milo told her. 

  
  


“Uh huh. He calls water damage in my fucking library nothing to worry about. I got two things to say about that.” Cersa replied. “Black mold.”

 

“It'll be alright, sis, seriously.” Milo promised her. 

 

Cersa hummed a little in her skepticism, checking her phone. “Shit, I really need to get going.” She said, looking back up to the two men. “And that means you guys gotta get going. Do you remember your assignment for tonight?”

 

“Yes…” Mark and Milo chimed in simultaneously, because she had been going on about this for what felt like hours now.

 

“Hm-mm, yeah, okay.” Cersa mocked their tone of voice. “Repeat it back to me so I believe you.”

 

“Find a suitable container for the shitty demon lord.” They echoed in unison again, and Cersa nodded. 

 

“Okay.” She said, nodding. “Good. Good job. I sort of believe you.” She told them, pushing back her chair and moving to leave the room.

 

Mark watched her leave, waiting until she was out of earshot then he leaned back in, looking to Milo. “So… what are we supposed to be doing tonight?” He asked.

 

“Well.” Milo replied, as he moved to gather up the empty dishes and wash them in the sink. “Did you believe her story about wanting to get laid here?” 

 

“Sure, I don't know. I don't know what to believe about anything these days.” Mark replied, scrubbing a hand over his face. Despite eating and taking a copious amount of pain medication, he still didn't feel ‘good.’ He felt tired and run down. Beaten up. 

 

“Lying through her teeth.” Milo told him. “She has a fucking dead body in the bathroom, she's not bringing anyone here. Oh, she may yet find someone to fuck with tonight, but she's not dumb. Well, not dumb when it comes to hiding dead bodies.” Milo replied. Mark cocked his head at that somewhat, but apparently the statement didn’t warrant any further comment from Milo. “This is her way of trying to parent trap us together.” Milo informed him. “Only her ruses aren't quite as clever.” 

 

Mark groaned a little. “You mean she can't just trust us to be responsible adults and allow us to move this relationship along its natural course?” He asked.

 

“Its Cersa.” Milo replied, like that explained everything. Actually, it kind of did.

 

“So what are we doing tonight?” Mark asked again.

 

“Finding a container for the shitty demon lord.” Milo drawled mechanically, and Mark snorted.

 

“After that.” He tried, and Milo shrugged. 

 

“Well I mean. That's all kind of up in the air for me.” He said. “We could get dinner someplace. Or grab it and take it with us. I would offer a movie, but there hasn't been anything worthwhile to see in… years.” Milo said,  and Mark snorted.

 

“Snot.” Mark called him, and Milo shot him a look.

 

“How about we visit the Camelback Mountains?” Milo asked, and Mark raised an eyebrow at that. Because that sounded lovely, but he felt like Milo was forgetting something kind of important here. 

 

“You're gonna be dragging me up the side of that mountain.” Mark warned. He really didn't feel up to hiking. Hell, he wasn't sure he felt up to shopping, really. But Milo shook his head.

 

“There's plenty of places to drive to up there, and just kind of take everything in.” He said. “We could watch the sunset.” He said. 

 

Mark paused, thinking it over. Yeah, that actually did sound kind of nice. Almost romantic. “Yeah… okay.” Mark agreed. 

 

Milo nodded, as he finished up his chore and put everything away. “Then afterwards I guess we can spend the night in my apartment in Scottsdale.” He said. “You can meet my pets.” He said.

 

“Oh god.” Mark replied. “ _ You _ have pets?” 

 

Milo nodded.

 

“Are they gonna try to eat me?” Mark asked. 

 

“As delicious as I find you, no.” Milo assured him. “They're too small to eat you all in one sitting.” He said.

 

“I'm trying to figure out if that was meant to be soothing…” Mark replied.

 

“Well, it doesn't protect you from me of course.” Milo smirked a little.

 

“Why is it when you're flirting with me it also kind of sounds like a threat?” Mark asked, as he stood as well. There were still a couple of things he thought he would like to do before he and Milo were run out of there on the metaphorical rail. 

 

“That just means I really like you.” 

 

Mark turned around just in time for Milo to catch him, tugging him up for a gentle kiss. Mark kind of naturally went with it, tipping his head up and closing his eyes, moaning softly. This was all moving very fast, and his brain wanted to argue about it, but there was just something comforting with the way Milo touched him sometimes, how sweet he could be. 

 

When Milo finally pulled back he was sure he was snickering at the dreamy sort of look on Mark's face. 

 

“We should get going.” Milo said, voice soft. He raised one of his hands to gently cup one of Mark's cheeks, the thumb grazing sweetly over the bone. 

 

“Well we're getting a hell of a running start at that.” Mark noted half sarcastically, drawing a smile out of Milo, a real one. Milo was usually too brooding to smile much, but Mark liked when he could say something dumb and get it out of him.

 

Mark decided then that they had not been dating long enough to be that obnoxious, so he gently pulled back, and Milo let him go. 

 

“How dressed up do you want me to be?” Mark asked him, and Milo shrugged.

 

“Whatever feels most comfortable to you.” Milo decided.

 

~~

 

After hitting up the shower (because yeah, the sponge bath was okay, but Mark was beginning to miss being actually clean,) Mark picked out a pair of black jeans and his flannel shirt, with a white shirt underneath. When he came out of the guest bedroom Milo was looking… well, like he'd walked out of a Clint Eastwood film. He was wearing a white button up shirt, a solid black vest hanging open over it. He was wearing a pair of very tight black jeans that tucked into a pair of patterned cowboy boots. Milo kind of ridiculously added a black cowboy hat to the whole thing. He'd actually gone so far as to braid his hair, a bit messily, a few strands hanging from it that were too short to travel the length of it. 

 

Milo glanced up when Mark entered the living room, closing up the book he was reading with a loud clap. “You look good.” Milo complimented. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Underdressed.” Mark replied, looking Milo's ensemble over again. “What's with the cowboy get up, Tex?” He said, imitating a southern accent as best as he could. 

 

Milo smirked a little. “Well we are in Arizona, home of the famous Gunfight at the O.K. Corral.” He said. “Figured I could dress the part and it wouldn’t get us two second looks. The hat was Cersa's idea though.” 

 

“That doesn't surprise me at all.” Mark replied. 

 

Milo smiled, and gently offered Mark his hand. 

 

Mark bit his bottom lip for a moment, kind of examining it. Then, he reached out and took it.

 

~~

 

Finding a container for Bael didn't turn out to be all that difficult. After searching a few hobby stores they found a little wooden box that could be locked up with a small iron key. It was something they didn't need to worry about being accidentally opened by someone in the future, so long as they kept track of the key and the box. Mark had casually suggested throwing both in the dump, but apparently that wasn't secure enough for Milo, who felt he needed to keep track of both items. 

 

Dinner also turned out to be easy to figure out. They found a halfway decent Thai place and ordered out, taking the food with them and just kind of digging at it in the back of Milo's car, which apparently was a rental provided by the insurance company that Milo didn't give a crap about. It worked for them, because it turned out Milo was also kind of a private person, and was concerned about Mark being recognized, so an improvised picnic seemed in order. Milo ended up being pretty proficient with the provided chopsticks, which Mark approved of. 

 

What was the highlight of the whole ‘date’ if one was inclined to call it that, was the Camelback Mountains. When they pulled into the parking lot a lot of the hikers were already on their way off of the mountain, leaving the tiny visitor’s center and heading back to their cars for the day. Almost as soon as Milo parked the car, Mark was getting out, just trying to take in the scenery. The place was beautiful. It was still very much desert area, with little more than rock, dirt, and brush. But dotting the landscape were these tall, saguaro cactuses that just towered above him. There were a number of dried, sun-scorched trees there, providing the only real shade. The tans and browns of the mountain that ascended up above them were accented by the colors of the setting sun, the pinks and oranges that were beginning to appear, the elongating shadows from the scenery cast in an almost blue hue. Almost immediately, Mark forgot about the weariness that had been dragging him down most of the day. As soon as Milo joined him he began to kind of explore the area. 

 

Milo chuckled at Mark’s almost newly found excitement. “Whatever happened to me dragging you up the side of the mountain?” He asked. 

 

“That was before I saw the mountain.” Mark told him. On almost a whim, Mark spotted the entrance to a trail and he began to head down it. It wasn’t paved in any way, marked only by the foot traffic of countless other guests, and lined with a number of rocks. 

 

“Ah.” Milo called from behind him. He seemed a little hesitant, and Mark turned slightly, shooting him a look from over his shoulder. Milo swiped his bangs to the side under the hat, getting himself another look over at Mark. “Are you sure you’re up to that? The trails aren’t exactly for beginners.” he said. 

 

“Are you calling me a beginner?” Mark asked, feeling like he was being challenged. 

 

“I mean...” Milo shot him another meaningful look and Mark bristled. 

 

“I’m not a fucking beginner, hiking is basically walking.” Mark replied, offended. “I can walk.” 

 

“It's a tad more labor intensive than that.” Milo pointed out to him, but all Mark heard was the skepticism.

 

“I'll show you. Be in awe of my walking skills.” Mark said, waving his arms with a wide flourish, as he made it a point to move faster. He was satisfied to hear the other man letting out a sigh, but he eventually began to walk along behind him. 

 

Mark moved briskly along the trail…. Which got a little crazy, kind of fast. It started off as a pretty uneven set of stairs, comprised of dirt and various flat stones. As it moved up along the side of the mountain, it wasn’t long before the stairs gave way to large, uneven boulders that one would have to ascend before they could continue back to the stairs. Mark was able to scramble over one without Milo’s help, but he could feel the man’s presence hovering pretty closely behind him, making sure he didn’t fall. At one point Mark couldn’t tell which way the trail even went, and Milo had to direct him with a hand gently clasping his elbow, tugging him in the right direction. At one point the trail narrowed so sharply that Mark and Milo had to press along the side of a huge block of granite to get by. The higher up they got though, the more of the city Mark could see. Close to them, they were able to look into the backyards of a set of incredibly nice homes, the lights inside them already starting to come on as the sun continued to set. The higher they went, the rockier the terrain became, and it was around this point that Mark began to feel his strength, and balance, begin to waver. But he pushed it back as much as he could. He was dead set determined on proving Milo wrong. He wanted to summit, and the waning light and uneven terrain wasn’t going to stop him. 

 

After a while, Mark lost the trail entirely, when they entered what just looked to him like a giant field of rocks. At this point, it was pretty much dark, there was very little light, and Mark was finally beginning to have trouble keeping his footing. He wasn’t sure how it happened, but he got his toe caught under a rock somehow, and Mark was suddenly pitched forward. Mark was only able to gasp quietly, but Milo was quick to snatch him up, pulling him safely against his chest.

 

“I think we need to stop…” Milo casually suggested, and Mark gave him an annoyed look. “No, not because…” Milo shook his head. “Just fucking look up.” Milo replied. 

 

Mark continued to stare at him, almost annoyed, before finally looking up, following the trail of Milo’s eyes and…. 

 

“Oh.” 

 

Mark hadn’t seen so many stars since he was a kid, camping with his dad. They were still technically in the middle of the city, although it was miles below them, so the light noise probably blurred out some of it, but what he could see was just, amazing. Mark didn’t even realize he was squeezing Milo’s arms until the other man made a noise. 

 

“Here.” Milo said, after a moment, gently guiding Mark back. He had him sit on a boulder that was slightly lower to the ground, and Milo hunkered down beside him. 

 

They sat in silence for a moment, just taking in the sight. “It’s beautiful.” Mark noted softly, and Milo nodded his agreement. “Wait, hey.” Mark said after a bit, looking to him. “You’re like, greek right? Do you know these constellations?” he asked. And Milo gave him a strange look. 

 

“I…. don’t really see the equivalence, but I’ll give it a try.” Milo said, looking up at the sky. After a moment, he pointed out a small star cluster. “Andromeda.” he said. “Not sure that really counts as me knowing my stuff, though, Andromeda happens to be a rather personal one to my family.” he said. 

 

“Why’s that?” Mark asked, and Milo shrugged. 

 

“Many eons ago, there was a beautiful princess named Andromeda, born in a rival kingdom whose mother was both vain and arrogant. She boasted within earshot of my great-grandfather that both she and her daughter were far more beautiful than my cousins, the Nereids.” Milo said. When Mark gave him a look at that, Milo sighed. “They’re like…. Sea-nymphs…. I guess you could equate them to mermaids.” He finally said. “There’s fifty of them.” He said. 

 

“Hang on….” Mark replied, trying to wrap his head around that. “You have fifty mermaid cousins.” He thought that he had a lot of questions about that, but for whatever reason, none of those more reasonable questions were the first things out of his mouth. Instead, he said. “Name them.” 

 

“What?” Milo asked, seeming confused. 

 

“Let’s see how much you love your family.” Mark laughed. “Name them, quick, the longer you have to think about it, the less you love your family.” 

 

“Mark that’s….” 

 

“Hey, clock is ticking, man..” Mark replied, moving to tap the watch that… he wasn’t even wearing. Well, he’d have to remember that for the next time he wanted to take a dig at the man, but Milo was already moving on to the task he’d been assigned to. 

 

“Ah… There’s- Panopea, Thetis, Nerea, Clio…” 

 

“Okay, that’s four.” Mark counted off for him. “So far, not convinced.” 

 

“I don’t see how this relates to anything…” Milo continued. “Doris, Calypso, Ah…”    
  


“Six, you’re slipping dude.” Mark laughed. “Come on, it’s like, knowing the names of all the Seven Dwarves, and you’re not a true Disney fan if you don’t know.” 

 

“Give me a minute, some of of them have more than one name. I’m trying not to list the same cousin twice.” Milo insisted. “Bero, Ianassa, Halie, Maera. Ligea, Thaleia, Xantho…” 

 

Mark watched with a grin as Milo made a face. “....Nerea…” 

 

“You already said that cousin.” Mark laughed, looking to him, and Milo sighed.

 

“Okay, if they were standing directly in front of me I could name them all, but you know, they’re cousins, not immediate family, I’d be in a lot more trouble if like, I forgot Cersa’s name.” he said.

 

“I can name all of my cousins.” Mark replied with a grin. “I’m not gonna recite them all right now, but I can do it.” 

 

Milo sighed a little, rubbing his index and middle finger against his temple, like he was suddenly nursing a headache. Mark decided to have mercy on him then, dropping the topic. “So what happened to Andromeda?” He asked. 

 

“Oh.” Milo replied, thinking back to his original story. “Well Poseidon was pissed of course, and he sent Cetus to attack their country. Cetus was ah…. Well, to me he was like a family pet, or a guardian. But you would probably think him a monster. He was large and serpentine.” Milo described. “I have very, very fond memories as a child, playing with Cetus.” 

 

“Sea serpent?” Mark put in, and Milo nodded. 

 

“Well, anyways, in order to stop Cetus from destroying the kingdom, the king and queen decided to sacrifice their daughter to the creature, which to me seems like the exact opposite of what their supposed feelings about her were but, whatever.” He shrugged. “As Cetus was about to swoop down and devour her, Perseus, who is kind of like, another distant cousin, came in and turned Cetus to stone using Medusa’s head.” Milo paused again. “Medusa, who’s actually another kind of a distant cousin…”

 

“You’re just kind of related to everyone.” Mark nodded. He ignored the part about how, once again, the gods were fucking around with the lives of the poor hapless mortals before absconding with them. It honestly kind of explained some of Milo's behavior when considering he'd grown up hearing this shit. He hated to admit Cersa was right about anything, but he could get what she said about it. When you've grown up hearing one thing, anything to the contrary seems like a crazy argument. 

 

“It gets complicated.” Milo agreed. “But what family isn’t?” He asked. 

 

“Good point.” Mark decided. “What else do you see up there?”

 

Milo glanced upwards again. “Well, I see…. I see Hercules.” Milo replied, pulling his hand from his temple to brush over his lips. “Do you want to hear all about his life story or are you good?” He asked. 

 

“I’m good, learned about it from Kevin Sorbo.” Mark replied, and Milo snickered at that. 

 

They were quiet a moment more, taking in the night sky. “This has been…. Nice.” Mark said then, turning to look back at Milo. 

 

“Surprised?” Milo asked him. 

 

“Actually… no.” Mark said. “This is actually kind of what I expected. Something quiet... kind of romantic. Something connecting us back to nature.” he said, looking up to Milo. “I wouldn’t mind doing it again.” he said. 

 

Milo smiled at that. “That’s good.” he said, sliding an arm around Mark’s shoulders, gently tugging the man in to his side. 

 

“We need to do this again.” Mark decided. “I might be bitter about not reaching the summit.” he admitted. 

 

“We’ll definitely tackle it another time.” Milo said softly. “In the daytime, perhaps. With more time on our hands, so we can see what we’re doing.” He said.

 

Mark nodded, leaning in to rest his head against Milo’s shoulder.

 

~~

 

Later on they headed back down the mountain together, Mark relying a little bit more heavily on Milo’s support this time around. So, maybe running up the side of the mountain without any kind of equipment or even basic supplies, like water, wasn’t the best idea, especially when he was still recovering from his various injuries. But it had been fun, and kind of bizarrely, he felt a lot closer to Milo afterwards. As far as dates went, at least with his history, that had probably been one of the nicer ones he’d been on. 

 

It was actually about a ten minute drive from the mountain to Milo’s apartment, which for Mark’s frayed nerves was a very good thing. 

 

It wasn’t until Milo went to open the front door when Mark suddenly stopped him, grabbing his arm. 

 

“Wait.” Mark said, and Milo raised an eyebrow at him. 

 

“What is it?” Milo asked, and Mark frowned a little. 

 

“Your pets.” he said. “They’re not like, laying in wait, preparing to jumpscare me, right?” he asked, and Milo smirked a little. 

 

“Why Mark.” Milo replied, crossing his arms over his chest. “Don’t you  trust me when I tell you that my pets are completely harmless?” he asked, and Mark shook his head immediately.

 

“Yeah, that’s what you said about your sister. And less than 24 hours later I saw her shoot a guy to death and cut his body into tiny, transportable pieces, so, no, I don’t trust you on that at all.” he said. 

 

“Well, let’s think about this logically.” Milo replied, still amused. “It’s an apartment, and not a terribly big one. I’m not here every day, obviously, so I clearly have to have someone coming by everyday to take care of my pets, and if they were monstrous, the landlord probably wouldn’t be all that happy with me keeping them here, would he?” He said. 

 

“Possibly, I don’t know what kind of freaks you hang out with.” Mark said, and Milo shrugged. 

 

“Most of the people I bother talking to on a daily basis are pretty mundane, actually.” he said. “If you're that worried, then stand behind me, and let me take the brunt of the blow.” Milo replied, tossing his head back in such a way that the braid slid from his shoulder to rest behind him. Mark actually bothered to take his advice, setting himself up. behind Milo as he opened the door.

 

And to Mark's surprise… nothing happened. Milo pushed the door open and moved inside, finding the lightswitch by the door and…

 

Mark was caught off guard to see a large, and beautiful aquarium taking up space in the center of the main room. 

 

“Oh.” Mark said, and he crept into the room behind Milo. The other man was looking pretty pleased as he walked in, peering into the aquarium and gently waving Mark forward. In the tank there were a variety of colored fish, but in particular Milo seemed to be checking out two very long brown and white creatures, which Mark quickly realized were actually a pair of sharks. 

 

“They're nocturnal, so they should be active now. You can see them.” He said. “Draco and Serpens. They're bamboo sharks.” He said.

 

“Aaaah.” Mark replied, relieved. “I really am too big for them to swallow whole.” 

 

“Yeah. You were always fine.” Milo said, smiling as one of the sharks flitted up to the glass, seeming to check the pair of them out. 

 

“Do they remember you?” Mark asked. Milo smiled.

 

“Well, they can. But right now, I think they’re just excited because it’s close to feeding time.” he said. 

 

“Oh yeah?” Mark asked. “They ever bite you or anything?” He asked. 

 

“No, they’re very sweet.” Milo replied. “These two you can pet.” Milo informed him. 

 

“Really?” Mark asked, peering in very closely at the two sharks. 

 

“Yeah. Wanna try?” Milo asked, and Mark shook his head. 

 

“Maybe later… I kind of want to see them eat.” He said, and Milo laughed. 

 

“Expecting a frenzy?” He asked. 

 

“I mean no, but I’m curious about it.” Mark said, and Milo nodded, moving to get their food. He waited by the tank while Milo slipped into the kitchen to gather what he needed for it, and after a couple of minutes, Milo returned, holding a small bowl filled with what looked like various shrimps, and even small pieces of fish. He pulled back a panel on the top of the tank and dumped in the mess, and immediately, the two sharks began to eagerly move through the tank, cutting through the water, seeming to quickly ‘hunt’ their prey and gobble it up. It went on for a couple of minutes, until most of the food was gone. 

 

Mark was fascinated, but during most of it, what he was really paying attention to was Milo’s reaction to it. Then man was smiling softly, his face illuminated by the tank’s soft lighting. Mark could tell that he was incredibly fond of these little creatures, and, there was something really endearing about that. 

 

Mark chewed his bottom lip for a moment, as he quickly decided on a course of action. Milo was slightly crouched over as he checked over his pets, putting him at just about eye level with Mark, which the smaller man decided to take advantage of. He placed a hand on Milo’s shoulder, gently pushing the other man, turning him towards him. Milo gave him a curious look. Mark leaned up and kissed it right off of him. 

 

Wondering how far the other man would let him push, he began to direct Milo backwards, moving him a few steps, and Milo went with it, letting Mark call the shots. He paused in the middle of the impromptu make out to glance around the apartment. 

 

“Bedroom?” He asked, and Milo kind of generally pointed to the right of them. Mark sighed, because leave it to him to get them pointed in the wrong direction when things were heating up. He bodily turned Milo in the appropriate direction, and began pushing him back again, much to the other man’s amusement. Milo had just enough time to flick on the lights, passing by them quickly as Mark maneuvered him to the bed. 

 

Milo landed on the bed with a bounce, that stupid cowboy hat flying off and landing somewhere appropriately out of his sight, and Mark quickly followed, straddling the other man’s hips. He quickly caught the other man’s wrists, pressing them back by his head.

 

“Caught you.” Mark told him, and the other man chuckled, voice low.

 

“Indeed you have.” Milo replied, kind of lazily twisting his wrists, as though testing Mark's hold. He could throw him off if he wanted, easily, but he was clearly humoring Mark. “And what dastardly thing did you have planned now?” He asked.

 

“Ah…. I’m working on that part of the plan, actually.” Mark paused after all of that, just kind of looking Milo over. Milo grinned up at him. 

 

“Gunshy?” Milo teased a little, which naturally spurred Mark on. 

 

“Insufferable piece of shit.” Mark decided, releasing Milo’s wrists and unbuttoning his shirt. It was kind of odd being on this end of things, but he quickly decided he didn’t mind. 

 

“Handsome, though.” Milo threw in, his hands moving to caress along Mark’s cheek, his neck, before settling on his shoulders, allowing Mark to pull open his shirt. It was kind of bizarre, because the two of them had technically fucked before, but they’d completely breezed over this whole foreplay thing, and Mark was curious. He wanted to see where Milo was sensitive, identify every little birthmark and scar. Milo was being very pliant with his curiosity, and that was nice. It was nice to be the one in charge for a change. 

 

“Yeah, lucky you.” Mark replied to the gentle teasing, moving in to brush his nose against Milo’s neck, and receiving a soft, pleasurable moan in return. Experimentally, he flicked his tongue out along the skin, tasting sea salt and sand, unsurprisingly. He watched, interested, at the bit of a shiver that ran through Milo’s body, felt as the other man’s hands tightened at his shoulder. 

 

Mark continued his gentle exploration, lavishing attention to the man’s collarbone, exploring his chest. As he did so Milo’s hands began to wander, too. Tiny, all too soft caresses, that Mark felt was meant to be encouragement. Milo touched his face, fingers moving over eyebrows, tracing the lines of his face, tangling in his hair. When Mark bit at one of Milo’s pecs, Milo gave his hair a tug, but he didn’t feel like Milo wasn’t enjoying that kind of attention. If anything, he was pretty sure the man was trying to tease him in return for the bite. So of course Mark bit him again, harder, trying to leave evidence of his affections. Milo’s skin didn’t bruise as easily as his own, which he didn’t think was fair, but he still managed to leave behind the trace of his teeth, and that was satisfying in its own right. He wanted Milo to be as marred from these encounters as he was.

 

He got much more of a reaction when he moved onto Milo’s abs, which was interesting. He would have never thought about the other man being ticklish, but from the strangled, choked-off noise that Milo made when he was just moving his hands over the area, he figured that had to be the case. Mark cocked his head at that, because it was a little bit unexpected. Mark very lightly ran his fingers over the spot again, and felt Milo’s fingers abruptly dig into his shoulder. 

 

“Mark.” Milo said, voice firm. And that, that definitely was a warning. But since when was Mark ever good about listening to those?

 

He did it again. 

 

Milo shot him a look. Then the next thing he knew, Milo pulled this bizarre maneuver, using his left thigh to pick up his hip, putting Mark off-balance enough to upend him and sending him sprawling onto the other side of the bed. As he did so, he rolled over onto Mark, effectively holding him down, as Milo appraised him with a little look.

 

“No?” Mark asked, causing Milo to roll his eyes. “Tickling not your thing?” He asked with a laugh.

 

“You fucking know better.” Milo replied. 

 

“Technically I didn’t, that’s what we’re doing here, right?” Mark asked him with a grin. He raised his arms up, tucking his hands behind his head, affecting a leisurely pose. “Exploring. Foreplay. Learning shit about each other.” 

 

Milo was still trying to look serious, but he was clearly having trouble keeping the smirk off of his face. “Foreplay, huh?” Milo asked, and Mark shook his head. 

 

“Fucking horndog.” Mark replied. “Out of all of that, that is the word you would pick up on.” 

 

Milo grinned a little, and he settled down low, half on top of Mark, half on the bed. “You are in no condition.” He gently scolded. “Not after I dragged you down from the mountain.” He said.

 

“I’m offended.” Mark replied. “I helped you drag me down the mountain.” he said with a laugh. 

 

“Hm. Is that right?” Milo replied, tipping his head to the side. “I suppose you tried.” 

 

“You dick.” Mark said, shaking his head. 

 

Milo smirked a little, reaching out to gently grasp Mark’s chin, tugging him up into a very leisurely kiss. They’d shared a number of soft kisses like this today, and Mark was beginning to find that he was questioning it less and less. At this point it was all beginning to feel normal, almost.... Right. 

 

After, Milo gently released him, moving to gently smooth out the flannel shirt Mark was still wearing. “It’s getting late, and you need to rest.” Milo decided and he moved, getting  up and removing the vest, and the rest of the shirt he was wearing. 

 

Mark laughed. “Are you enforcing a bedtime for me now?” He asked. He didn’t bother to get up, but he kind of felt like he needed to tease the other man over it anyways. Even still, he did what he needed to make himself comfortable, kicking off his shoes and sliding his pants down on the bed until they bunched up on the end of it, leaving him in his boxers. He left on the shirt and flannel, because he was still pretty comfortable sleeping with those on. He watched as Milo flicked off the lights before returning. 

 

“I might be.” Milo replied. 

 

“I’m not tired.” Mark lied. He was just giving Milo a hard time, and Milo gave him the exact exasperated look that he was looking for. “In fact, I’m feeling pretty full of energy right now…”

 

“Mark.” 

 

Mark began to push himself off of the bed, leaning up on his elbows. “I think I’m gonna go pet the sharks…” he said, acting like he was going to get up, when Milo came back in a damn hurry, earning a high pitched squeak out of Mark when the other man abruptly pushed him back down. Milo essentially set himself up on top of Mark, pinning him hard to the bed. 

 

“You are no fun.” Mark pouted. It took a little work with Milo’s considerable weight holding him down, but Mark was able to squirm out from under the other man, and had just enough energy left to turn over onto his side, now facing Milo. It took his eyes a moment to adjust, but after a moment, he could see the other man, now on his side as well, facing him. The other man was studying him, quietly.

 

“Did you have a good time today?” he finally asked, and Mark nodded. 

 

“Yeah, actually.” he said. “This off the grid, night time sight-seeing stuff. It was all great.” he said. “I still want to pet the sharks, though.” He said, scooting himself in to be closer to Milo. 

 

Milo smiled at that, reaching out to gently tug him in. He pressed a kiss to the center of Mark’s forehead, before tucking him into his chest, settling with his chin resting over Mark’s head, arms gently wrapped around him. Mark made himself comfortable, resting his head against Milo’s collarbone, his arm resting in the indent of his waist. “Well, tomorrow I’ll see that you get that chance.” Milo told him. 

 

With Milo’s gentle hands on him, drawing small patterns onto his neck and back, Mark ended up dozing pretty quickly. He closed his eyes and just gave into the void. 

 

That night as he slept, he wasn't bothered by any nightmares. 

 

~~

 

It wasn't until early the next morning that he heard what sounded like the ringing from a landline phone that he woke up. Mark began to shift upwards, but Milo pushed him back down, mumbling quiet obscenities to himself about taking the fucking thing and throwing it out the window. A morning person, Milo clearly was not. He reached over Mark's chest and grabbed the receiver, pulling it up to his ear, and letting the long cord drape across Mark’s neck. 

 

“What do you want.” Milo said into the speaker, and he said it so abysmally that it drew a snort out of Mark, who let himself relax against the mattress while Milo took his call. Mark was kind of stuck in that warm, fuzzy place between being fully awake and half asleep, that would easily lull you back down if you let it, and with Milo pushing back down on his chest it was easy to stay there, trapped between those two states of being.

 

After a moment though, Milo disconnected the call and sighed, moving to get back up. For whatever reason, the absence of that warmth against his side caused Mark to wake up fully, and he looked to Milo for an explanation.

 

Milo was shrugging his shirt back on, looking to Mark. “Cersa needs us.” he explained. “She said it's time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have one more chapter, and then, astonishingly, there's likely, and I mean, HIGHLY likely that there's going to be a sequel. Complete turn around from the sort of wishy washy, 'I may finish this lol i dunno' attitude I had before, I know. I don't fucking know why, I just had all kind of ideas for this fucker that were not going to fit into this one. Also, because I feel like this relates to that, I have deleted a scene from this chapter that may turn up, in some way, as a one shot somewhere down the line? The point behind it was that, eh, it was another scene to help bump along the growing closeness of Mark and Milo's relationship, and make where they stand now make more sense, but for some reason it felt like it was dragging down the pace? So I took it out. It may turn up again. I don't know. We'll see. 
> 
> Also this is kind of a weird place to introduce a new character, but I need to introduce a new character in this last chapter. Lmfao. There is a point to him though. He's helping me wind down this story and set up the plot for the next one. He's actually an old character I occasionally role-play with, and the thing that's funny about that is I just remembered HE HAS A TUMBLR. I died laughing when I remembered. You can find it [here.](http://damien-wolfe.tumblr.com/) His name is Damien Wolfe and Alice Cooper is his face character. And if you know anything at all about Alice Cooper, you probably have a good idea about how this last chapter is going down. 
> 
> So, gonna have that last chapter out SOON. I have a test coming up I need to study for, have to work, so I'm shooting for, maybe, hopefully, next Tuesday. We'll see how it goes. 
> 
> Love you guys, see you soon.


	8. Wicked Young Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think where this chapter ends is going to make it apparent pretty quickly why I felt this needed a sequel. I don't like taking all the power away from a character without giving some of it back. I actually have a rant about this stored up, but I'm going to save it for chapter 1 of the next story in this little series. (Did I just call it a series? Jesus Christ. Just end me, already.)

When Mark and Milo arrived at Cersa’s the woman looked harried. More stressed out than Mark had ever seen her, that cool demeanor she seemed to embrace was gone. She had her long hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, and her colorful outfits were gone. She had replaced it with something old, and solidly black. Mark realized later, that it was probably to hide the blood splatter, because on the areas she wasn’t wearing it, she looked drenched. 

 

“He’s giving you trouble?” Milo asked, and she shook her head. 

 

“No.” She said, looking between the two of them. “I mean… He’s talking a lot of shit, like, so much shit. But it’s fine.” 

 

“He’s talking?” Mark asked, holding the bag with the box and key inside of it. As soon as Cersa spotted it she snatched it out of his hands, opening the bag and inspecting the box.

 

“Yeah, it’s a little disconcerting. Disembodied head telling you your mother’s a whore. But I mean. I knew that. So.” She shrugged a little. “I mean, no surprises here.” 

 

“Cersa.” Milo said, a little bit more seriously. “Are you sure you can handle this?” He asked her, and Cersa nodded. 

 

“Yeah, of course.” She said, sniffing a little as she dismissed him. “The stuff he says doesn’t bother me. I’m a big girl. And it’s not like I can just drop the spell and let a couple of guys who’ve never done this shit before pick it up, so I’ve got to be okay.” She said a little, her voice getting very quiet . “Besides I called mom and she walked me through everything. So I got this.” She insisted.

 

Milo sighed a little, crossing his arms over his chest. “What do you want me to do?” He asked her. 

 

“Just…. I don’t know.” 

 

Mark raised an eyebrow because, well. She didn’t dismiss him right away, so, she was clearly a little unsure if all of this was going to work out, and that made him feel more uncomfortable than anything. 

 

“Just wait outside. Listen. And if it sounds like things have completely gone to shit, break down the door and be ready for a fight.” She said, looking to up to her brother. “You can do that, right?” She asked.

 

Milo nodded. “Yeah, of course.” He said, and she nodded, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear, holding the box close to her chest like it was a security blanket. 

 

“Okay.” She said, moving to head back inside of her bedroom. “Wish me luck.” She asked softly. She closed the door behind her with a solid click.

 

~~

 

Mark and Milo ended up standing on either side of the door, leaning against the wall. Every so often they could pick up whispering, but, it was difficult to really hear what was being said. 

 

Mark glanced to Milo. “Is there anything we should be looking out for?” He asked. “Some kind of… _ something _ we should be picking up, to know whether or not she needs help?” he asked, and Milo shook his head. 

 

“I'm pretty sure she'll let us know. Besides, if he somehow figures out a way to overpower her while he's in this state, we may all as well slip our heads between our thighs and kiss our asses goodbye, because it means he's far more powerful than we gave him credit for.” he said.

 

Mark stared at him for a long moment, and Milo sighed. “Meaning that he has no chance in hell of breaking out of this, and you shouldn't worry too much.”

 

“I'm a little worried.” Mark threw out there. “Besides she seemed kind of shaken.” he said. 

 

“Well, that's because this whole process is… kind of gory.” he said, and Mark gave him a skeptical look. “Yes, worse than the cutting up into tiny pieces thing.” he said.

 

“How?” Mark asked, and unfortunately he got his answer almost immediately. There was a loud snap, and the sound of Bael screaming, as a huge amount of fluid splashed against the door. Mark actually took a step back, despite himself.

 

Milo looked fairly unimpressed. “It's just… a lot like torture.” he said. “At least when she was cutting him to pieces, it was effectively a dead body. He couldn't feel it. This is different.” Milo replied.

 

There was another scream, another choked off cry. Mark thought he could hear Cersa breathing hard, like she was trying to keep herself from crying.

 

It all sounded completely awful.

 

But on that note.

 

“You know what?” Mark said, looking to Milo, and the other man hummed softly. “I don't give a fuck. Good. I hope it hurts like nothing else he's ever experienced.”

 

It startled a laugh out of Milo, who gave Mark a fond look. “You know what? I agree.” he said. 

 

~~

 

It took a couple of hours. Mark ended up sitting on the floor, legs crossed, his back leaning against the wall for support, as he tried to block out the sounds coming from Cersa's bedroom from his memory. Milo remained upright, and Mark swore, he didn't know how the other man did it. He had his black dagger in his hands and he looked like he was playing with it, boredly. Flipping it across his knuckles, twirling it. Mark wanted to know where exactly he kept that thing when it wasn't out, but he didn't think he really wanted to know.

 

Mark was starting to wonder if he should go get a magazine when Cersa's cat suddenly turned a corner and approached him, dropping a toy mouse at his feet. Mark picked up the mouse and tossed it, and sure enough, the cat went chasing after it, only to return a few minutes later.

 

“Why the hell does this cat like me so much.” he wondered aloud. He wasn’t exactly looking for an answer. But Milo provided one anyways. 

 

“Because you're uninterested.” Milo said. “You're a dog person so you don't seek it out, you don't necessarily want its attention. They like that.” 

 

“Oh. So it's like the girls I tried to date in high school. In reverse.” Mark joked, and Milo smirked.

 

“I feel like there’s a long list of embarrassing turn downs you're not expressing here.” Milo replied.

 

“Yeah well, I was a little awkward back then. Unlike now, now I'm  _ all _ stud.” he grinned a little, as he tossed the mouse for Daphnis again. Milo snorted.

 

“How precious, the duckling has become a swan.” Milo replied, amused. 

 

After a moment, both men turned to the sound of what sounding like nails scraping along the side of the door. Mark jumped to his feet. turning to face the sound, and Milo took on a defensive position. When the door finally swung open Cersa stood on the other side, the box clutched tightly in her hands.

 

“Get this thing away from me.” She demanded, tossing the box at Mark's chest. he was able to catch it, just kind of automatically yanking it out of the air. Then he remembered what it was and what was inside of it and he nearly fucking dropped it again. If it wasn't for Milo he'd have shattered the box into a billion pieces; fortunately the man easily reached out and caught the box, preventing them from having to start over again. 

 

“You okay, sis?” Milo asked, watching as Cersa carefully closed the door behind her and entered the hall way. Her face was spattered with blood, even drenching the parts of her hair that were normally blonde. 

 

Cersa shot him just about the dirtiest look Mark thought he'd ever seen. “I'm fine. Everything's fine. I just need a shower and probably like, a shit ton of bleach to get my room clean again.” she sighed,  tugging on a strand of her hair, and watching with dismay when she was able to squeeze a tiny amount of jellied blood from her hair. Mark felt sick. She glanced over to him. “The box is yours, by the way.”

 

“Mine??” he asked, feeling his stomach flip at the thought. “I don't want it it.” 

 

“Too fucking bad. I'm not babysitting that thing for the rest of eternity. Bury it in the backyard for all I care. I'm keeping the key. So you get the box.” she told him. “You need to keep track of it though, seriously. Because if someone smashes it against the concrete and it bursts open…” Cersa shook her head. “We'll be back at square one.”

 

“Which is why we can't just toss it.” Milo clarified. Mark sighed, moving to wrap his arms around the box.

 

“Fine, whatever.” Mark mumbled, holding it close. He looked between Milo and Cersa, a tense silence having fallen between the three of them. Mark looked between one sibling and the other. 

 

“Can I fucking go home now?” Mark asked. 

 

Both siblings seemed startled out of their thoughts. “Right.” Milo replied. 

 

“Yeah, of course.” Cersa agreed. 

 

The next hour or so was kind of a blur of activity. They weren’t allowed to go anywhere until Cersa had taken her shower, and afterwards she was much more like herself. After she’d hugged everyone, Milo helped Mark gather his things and they pretty quickly got back on the road. 

 

It was going to be at least a six hour drive back to Los Angeles. Mark sat in the front seat of Milo’s rental with the box sitting on the dashboard.

 

~~

 

They ended up making a couple of pit stops before they officially made it back to Los Angeles. The most important one to Mark was stopping by the home of the kind family to pick up Chica. His baby girl was so happy to see him that she nearly knocked him right the hell over. Milo hung back, just kind of watching over him as he reunited with her. To his surprise though, after Chica greeted him happily, she moved over to Milo, seeming to want to check him out too. It drew a smile out of the other man and he knelt down, allowing Chica to sniff his hand, and finally allowing him to pet her too. She seemed to give him her approval and then she greeted him in much the same way. 

 

That was the first time that Mark thought to himself,  _ okay, this has a chance _ .

 

~~

 

Mark…. Had no fucking idea what to do with the box. Milo didn’t exactly have any helpful suggestions on that either. So as soon as they made it back to his home, Mark dropped the box off on the kitchen counter and decided to deal with it later. 

 

It felt…. Odd, to be home. It almost seemed like it had been ages since he’d last been there, even though by now he understood it had just been over a week. Chica moved right in like no time had passed at all, looking just happy to be back. 

 

Milo seemed to notice him hovering and came up behind him, pulling him into a soft embrace. His arms slid under Mark’s, burying his face in the man’s hair. 

 

“Sorry.” Mark apologized quietly, though he didn’t quite know why. 

 

But Milo seemed to get it. “No.” Milo stopped him right away. “Your first visit home after feels strange. Foreign.” he said. “Just take things slow.” he advised. 

 

Mark hummed softly. “Do you think you could stick around for a couple of days?” He asked. He slowly turned in Milo’s arms, looking up to the other man. “I just don’t think it’d be good for me to be alone right now.” He admitted. “I don’t want to get too into my head, and I mean, with you here…” 

 

“I don’t mind at all.” Milo told him softly, moving to brush his fingers through Mark’s hair. “I’ll always be here when you need me.” 

 

~~

 

Mark walked upstairs to the bedroom alone. He wasn’t thinking about doing anything more complicated than running through the shower, but he paused, just outside the door. He wasn’t sure if it was his own nerves making him hesitate, but he thought, just for a moment, that he could almost  _ sense _ something on the other side of that door. There was a cool air escaping from under the door that he just didn’t get at all. It wasn’t like his home was drafty. 

 

He took a deep breath, and let it out slow. It was all in his head. It had to be. He was still draining nerves that had been wound up for over a week now. Besides, even if it was a little chillier in that room, it might have been just residual damage from that series of earthquakes Milo had set off the week before. Not every cool gust of wind meant there was something lurking behind a closed door. 

 

After berating himself thoroughly, he pushed open the door. He made it two steps inside when he heard a growl. Without thinking, he slammed the door shut behind him, thinking only to protect Chica from whatever the fuck was waiting in there, and hell. He wished he’d listened to his intuition. 

 

“Well isn’t that odd.”

 

“Who the hell are you?” Mark demanded, as he took in the sight of the other man. He was tall, with a tanned complexion, that suggested he spent a fair amount of time out in the sun. He had long, tousled dark hair that fell over his shoulders in waves. He, like a lot of the men that had turned up in Mark’s life recently wore a decent amount of expensive looking leather. In his hands he wielded a cane, topped with a disconcerting figure of a golden skull with ruby red gems in the sockets. But the sight of the man wasn’t nearly as imposing as that of the large, red-eyed, grey wolf that stood beside him, crouched down low, in an aggressive stance if Mark had ever seen one. He had no doubts that wolf would tear his throat out in a second, so he kept very, very still, close to the door to keep his own dog from trying to push it open, the way she sometimes did. 

 

The man glanced down to his pet, as if just now noticing his stance. “Down, Griever.” The man said, soothing the animal with a hand to the nape of its neck. Its growling calmed a little, but it still seemed prepared to be on the attack. Once the wolf was quiet, the man raised startling blue eyes back up to Mark, seeming to be taking him in again. “Mark, isn’t it?” The man said. Mark didn’t reply, which drew a chuckle out of the man. “You know, you’ve been causing quite the stir lately, at least in some of the circles I go about in.”

 

“I don’t care about any of that.” Mark snapped. “I want you out of my home, and I want you out now.” he warned, drawing a wicked smile out of the other man.

 

“Oh, I do so love it when you mortals think you’re calling the shots.” the man replied, his voice dark and low. 

 

“You know, I’ve really had it up to here with you guys talking down to me like I’m just some helpless…”

 

“Oh please, what are you going to do?” The man asked him. “Fight me? Or more likely, call for Kasmilos?” He asked, swinging the cane into the palm of his hand. Tapping it once, again. “You know, I didn’t strictly come here to speak to you, but now that you’re here…” The man replied, amused. “Well, I suppose I could make this interesting for him.” 

 

The man crossed the room in a few long strides, drawing a curse out of Mark as he tried to defend himself. 

 

It was a depressingly short fight.

 

Mark was unconscious before he hit the ground. 

 

When Milo came up to check on him, he only found a note laying on the floor.

 

_ Hermosa Cemetery. One hour. _

 

~~

 

It didn't take Milo an hour to reach the cemetery. It was getting late, and there weren't that many people still out on the roads, so he was pretty much free to speed as recklessly as he felt when the cops weren’t looking. When he reached the cemetery its gates had already closed, and he was forced to climb over them, hopping down to the other side. Right away, he pulled his dagger from its hidden sheath, keeping it at the ready for whatever he might meet. It was always kind of creepy entering places like this. He didn't know why old cemeteries seemed to always plant trees with long, vine-like branches hanging down low to the ground. It had been cool and rainy lately in this part of California, so naturally, that meant a fog had come down from the nearby mountains, lending to the atmosphere. It seemed almost supernaturally quiet in this dark, dismal place, with only the ambient glow of a few scattered streetlights. There was more light trickling in from the outside of the cemetery than coming from within.

 

He paid it all no mind. He was singularly focused on one thing. Find Mark, and get him the fuck out of there. Then, well. He was going to really have to rethink how he was going to take care of the man, what with his penchant for getting kidnapped every two seconds. 

 

He moved through the cemetery carefully, keeping an eye out for a trap. He didn’t see anything all too suspicious. So far as he could tell, all the corpses were where they were supposed to be, which was a good thing, and hadn’t always been the case, as far as his experiences had gone. He didn’t see anything at all until he climbed his way up the hill in the older part of the cemetery and…

 

“Damien Wolfe.” Milo shouted, his face twisted in a snarl. “You son of a bitch.” 

 

Damien shot Milo a grin. Always with the flair for the dramatic, he’d set up quite the scene for Milo to stumble upon. Mark was laying in the soft indent of a grave. The wolf, laying near to Mark’s side, with his heavy head resting across one of Mark’s thighs. It lifted it’s head up curiously as Milo approached. Mark seemed unharmed, just kind of quietly sleeping, hands folded over his stomach peacefully. It was morbid, but not quite as morbid as the tombstone he was laying in front of. The words etched into the concrete read: 

 

_ U.S. Deputy Marshal _

_ Morgan S. Earp  _

_ Born 1851 _

_ Assassinated  _

_ Tombstone, Arizona _

_ March 18, 1882 _

 

Milo figured out pretty quickly what was going on here. 

 

Behind the grotesque scene, Damien was leaning up against a tree. He pushed himself up, walking around the tombstone, pausing just long enough to scratch behind Griever’s ear. Milo remembered that they called him the Showman for a reason…

 

“We should take a walk, Milo.” The man said, and Milo shook his head. 

 

“I’m not leaving Mark.” he said firmly. Damien grinned. 

 

“Mark is perfectly safe.”

 

Milo shot him a look. “In Colton?” He asked. 

 

“Ah, point taken.” Damien replied. “Even still. Griever is magnificent babysitter. He’s going to take great care of your boy. Look, he’s very fond of him already.” he said, pointing back to the scene. Milo watched as Griever laid back down next to Mark, flipping onto his back and stretching out pretty leisurely. 

 

Milo looked back to Damien. “I’m not feeling terribly assured.” He said, prompting a sigh from Damien. 

 

“That woman is turning him into a puppy.” Damien muttered to himself. “Still. It’s fine. Come on.” he said, turning and leading Milo further into the graveyard. Milo was reluctant to pull himself away. Mark just seemed so still, he almost didn’t look like he was breathing. He didn’t like the idea of leaving him so vulnerable. Ultimately he decided to trust Damien following along behind him.

Damien led him back out onto the road. They walked in near silence, past the tiny church in the graveyard’s center, and into what was kind of obviously an old family plot. There was a large statue in the center, praying over the family, old rain furrows on her cheeks made the statue seem to quietly sobbing. Damien, not a small man by any means, took up his position under the angel’s spread wings, arms crossed over his chest, as he looked over to Milo. Again, Milo thought the man was projecting a particular image, and he wondered what sort of fate would have befallen the man if maybe that angel had been watching over him instead, so long ago. 

 

“Well, congrats on finally finding one and managing to keep him alive.” Damien said, looking to Milo. “He’s already managed to work up quite a tizzy around here… quite a bit of panic.” He said, glancing to Milo. “You know why, right?” 

 

“This have anything to do with your boss?” Milo asked, and Damien nodded. 

 

“Actually, he’s the one who sent me. Told me, to deliver his message in a manner that was overwrought with symbolism and drama.” Damien said.

 

“Yeah, you managed that.” Milo spat, delivering the comment in a way that really wasn’t a compliment. “Scared the shit out of me too. I had no idea what happened, if someone with malign intentions was hurting him, torturing him.” Milo scolded. 

 

Damien shrugged. “You got the point though, right?” he asked, and Milo looked away. He was pretty sure he knew, but he figured Damien would fill him in anyways. “Look. I know you and Bael have always had…. Quite the vendetta between each other.” he said. “But he’s a pretty high-ranking demon. And as impossible as it seems, he has managed to make quite a few powerful allies.” Damien said pointedly. “The boss doesn’t care. You know him. He has no bone in this fight.” he said, trying to assure Milo. “But if things should go down… he may be forced to pick a side.” He said. 

 

“I don’t want to fight the boss.” Milo said, voice soft. “But I will, if he does anything to threaten Mark.” 

 

“The boss would never choose to attack him.” Damien replied. “He cares more about his comforts, he’s fine so long as he has steady access to drugs and women.” he levelled with Milo. “But if it comes down to it, and they decide to move against you, because of what you did to Bael…” he trailed off a little, letting his meaning sink in. “His hand may be forced. I think you understand as well as I do. You don’t want to be on his bad side.” 

 

Milo understood that very well. For as much as the boss was one of the more easy-going demons, he knew as well as any what he was capable of. Damien himself was a fine example of this. He went from a shaking, scared teenager into a finely crafted weapon. 

 

“If it comes down to that…. Then that’s what it is.” Milo replied simply. “I’m not going to risk Mark’s safety by letting Bael loose. If that starts a war…. Then I hope they’re prepared to put up a fight.” Milo said. “Because I’m going to be ready for them. Bael’s not the only one with connections.” 

 

Damien smirked at that. “That’ll put a fast end to our friendship.” he noted, and Milo couldn’t help the hurt he felt at that. The two of them had had a long history, and he hated to think of it ending that way. But, Damien had a debt to repay, and so far as he knew, neither he nor his lady friend had figured a way out of that, yet. He didn’t like the idea of having to face Damien in a fight, but at the same time, he cared about Mark. He knew what he’d have to do if it came down to it.

 

“That’s…. Unfortunate.” Milo admitted softly. 

 

Damien smiled, but it was a little bit sad. “What a couple of fools we are. Risking it all for love.” His voice made like he was trying to mock his own statement, and the both of them. Damien straightened up, glancing up at the angel statue that towered over them both. “I hope I don’t have to kill you in the near future.” Milo snorted at that. 

 

“Please, we both know I’d win that fight.” 

 

“Hm, don’t be so sure.” Damien replied, amused, as he dropped his eyes back down to the other man. 

 

Wordlessly, the two men moved back to where they’d left Mark and Griever. Damien summoned Griever with a whistle, and the wolf jumped up obediently. Mark… didn’t move. He didn’t respond to Milo calling his name. Not a single reaction in his face. Not a muscle twitched in recognition. Nothing. Frowning softly, Milo kneeled down beside him. 

 

“What’s wrong with him?” Milo asked, reaching down to gently slide an arm under Mark’s shoulders, supporting him, and pulling him up into an almost sitting position. Mark’s head kind of slid backwards over his arm, like the man had become utterly boneless. One of his hands fell to his side, collapsing to the sparse grass beneath him. Milo was pretty certain the movement should have woken him, and he wondered how exactly Damien had gotten Mark out there, if he’d drugged him or…

 

“Oh. That is a gift from the boss, right there.” Damien replied. “Special request. He’s curious to see if you’ll know how to fix it.” 

 

Milo sighed. “You cursed him.” 

 

“Relax. It’s an easy fix, if you can figure it out.” Damien told him. “I think the boss is… curious, about him. All this nasty business. He wants to know why.” Damien said, looking to Milo expectantly. 

 

Milo shot Damien a very dry smile. “Tell the boss to shove it. And remind him that if he comes close to Mark again I will end him.” he promised. 

 

“Ooh.” Damien crooned, shooting Milo another grin. “That’s just going to make him even more curious.” he mused. “Well, good luck with that.” he said. 

 

He disappeared in a plume of fog, leaving Milo alone with the unconscious man.

 

~~

 

Milo had never bothered to use a smartphone before, not until Mark insisted that he get one. (One of the ‘pit stops’ Mark had insisted on on their way back to Los Angeles. Milo had bought, and paid for a phone for the both of them, and Mark had set them up during the drive back. He figured it was owed, as Milo had apparently broken Mark’s previous phone. Besides that, getting in contact with the young man easily did seem to be a point of importance.) He hadn’t actually looked at it or fiddled with it yet, and it was only programmed with two numbers. Mark’s and Cersa’s, which Mark had gotten from his sister before they had ever left Phoenix.

 

Kneeling in the dirt with Mark sleeping against his chest, Milo pulled out that cellphone and, after making a couple solid attempts, he managed to get it to do what he wanted, and rang Cersa. 

 

She didn’t  answer the first time he called, but he quickly got a text back from her. That read:

 

_ WTF WHO IS THIS _

 

Milo couldn’t help the physical eyeroll, even though she obviously couldn’t see it. 

 

_ Kaz  _ He wrote back. It took her a couple of minutes to properly respond.

 

_ Oh _

 

_ Scare me y don’t u _

 

_ Weird nmbr calling me after I hyper fkd an ancient evil _

 

Milo stared long and hard at the string of messages he received back. “Okay.” he said, out loud, to nobody. Leave it to Cersa to adopt some overly obnoxious text speak.

 

_ Cersa I have a problem  _ He texted her.  _ Can I call? _

 

_ u'v so many problems but sho _

 

Milo moved out of the messaging program and tried calling her again. This time, she answered the phone right away. 

 

“Hello?” He asked, and he could hear her sigh in relief on the other end of the line. 

 

“Okay, I still wasn’t sure it was really you.” She told him. 

 

“Well who else would it be?” He asked her.

 

“I don’t know…. Satan?” She suggested, and he snorted. 

 

“It could only have been me or Mark.” he threw out there. 

 

“Yeah, him and I were texting for a while but he stopped responding a bit ago.” Cersa said. “He okay?” She asked.

 

Ah, finally, to the point. “Actually, that’s why I’m calling.” he said, shifting the man still laying peacefully against him a bit. “So he might have been… I mean we might have run into someone…. And he has been… kind of… sort of... Cursed.” 

 

“WHAT??” Cersa screeched into the phone so loud that Milo had to pull it back, holding the phone out as she began to berate him. “IT HASN’T EVEN BEEN A FULL DAY AND YOU GOT HIM CURSED?? WHY DOES THIS SHIT ALWAYS HAPPEN WHEN I’M NOT AROUND?? YOU TWO ARE OLD ENOUGH THAT YOU DON’T NEED ME FOR A BABYSITTER.”

 

After she finished, Milo pulled the phone back, pressing it to his ear once again. “Finished?” He asked her. He could hear her panting, she seemed to be quite upset. 

 

“Okay. I’m fine.” She breathed out slowly, collecting herself. “So, who is behind the curse?” She asked, all business again.

 

“Damien.” 

 

“Whyyyy…?” Cersa complained, her voice getting high pitched and nasally. “Why did you have to piss off Damien? I like Damien, you know.” 

 

“Yeah, he’s not mad, he said his boss made him do it.” Milo clarified, and she hummed a little in reply. 

 

“Okay, symptoms?” She asked.

 

“Well, he’s asleep, and I can’t wake him.” Milo said.

 

“That’s it?” She asked. “Is he breathing?”

 

“Yeah, uh, well, sort of?” he said. He had to adjust his hold on Mark again, tucking the phone between his shoulder and neck and held his hand up to Mark’s face, trying to feel for a breath. After a moment, Milo pulled back. “Okay, he’s breathing, but it’s not like… strong. It’s very shallow.” he said. 

 

“Are you sure he isn’t dead?” 

 

“Damien wouldn’t do that.” Milo chided gently, and Cersa hummed. 

 

“Yeah but maybe his boss would.” She said, and Milo had to agree, he probably might. But one would have had to really piss him off, first. “What’s his pallor like?” 

 

“Ah…. he’s a little pale.” Milo said, really examining the man.

 

“So, he’s unwakeable. Breathing almost. Pale, like the blood is having trouble circulating. One might call it a, death-like sleep… check his index finger?” She told him.

 

“Which one?” He asked, looking down to Mark’s limp hands. 

 

“Either or.”

 

Milo checked first the hand still resting on Mark’s waist, then looked to the one laying on the ground. “Oh.” he said, wondering how he’d missed that before. 

 

“What is it?” Cersa asked. 

 

“There’s a small… something.” Milo told her. “Like a needle prick.”

 

“Ah ha!” Cersa said, sounding a bit more excited. “Did you kiss him?” She asked.

 

Milo didn’t respond right away. He was momentarily dumbfounded. He blinked, blinked again, and finally his brain nearly caught up to his mouth. “Hu-what?” he responded, unintelligently.

 

“Oh my fucking god. You mean you haven’t tried True Love’s Kiss? What kind of a boyfriend are you?” Cersa scolded him, and Milo made a face. 

 

“There’s no way it’s that easy.” Milo scoffed. “That sounds so stupid, like something straight out of a fairy tale. Kiss him better. Love conquers all. That doesn’t happen… ever.” he said. He was almost certain he could feel the force of her offense, even miles away from her home. 

 

“Oh, okay, wise guy.” She said. “Well why don’t you fucking try it anyways, then you get back to me after to tell me how right I am.” She said. “Go on, bitch. Do it. I dare you.” 

 

“Fine.” 

 

Milo set his phone on the ground, leaving Cersa hanging on the line. He moved very gently, setting Mark back down on the ground, so he could find the leverage to do this. Then he leaned over the unconscious man, let his hand rest against the other man’s cheek, brushing lightly over the smattering of stubble he found there. He gently tugged the other man’s chin up and claimed his lips in a kiss. 

 

~~

 

Mark jerked awake, gasping hard like he hadn’t taken a breath in ages. Instinctually, fuelled by a panic that came to him completely naturally, being that the last thing he could remember was a strange man attacking him, he flailed, trying to defend himself against whoever was leaning over him. His fist connected with something solid. He heard a hiss, and whoever falling backwards a bit, landing on his rear.

 

“Okay… ow.” 

 

Mark stopped after that, his vision clearing in time to see that Milo was covering his eye.

 

“Milo??” Mark stared at the other man for a moment. “Where’s that guy? The guy? Did he hit you?” he asked, reaching for Milo’s hand and pulling it away from his face. He saw the beginnings of a black eye there, but it didn’t quite connect that he was the one who did it. “Did he get you too?” He asked.

 

Milo paused for a second, before giving him a very serious look. “Yeah, he sure did.” he said, leaning back a bit. “Mark, I hate to tell you this, but, he got me. I’m dying.” Milo said, placing a hand over his heart. “I need you to promise that you’re going to carry on without me-” 

 

“You fucking shithead.” Mark interrupted, picking up immediately on the sarcastic tone of Milo’s voice. He reached out, punching Milo again, hitting him in the shoulder. That punch didn’t do nearly as much damage as the black eye Milo was now sporting, and Mark was a little disappointed by that. “I was worried about you!”

 

“Hey!” They both glanced down at Milo’s phone, as Cersa’s voice came on over the speaker. “What happened? Was that Mark? Tell me I’m right, you fucker!”

 

Milo quickly grabbed the phone, holding it up to his ear. “Ah, sorry, you’re breaking up, I’ll catch you later.” He said, before disconnecting the call. Mark blinked a little at the display. 

 

“You’ve owned that thing for two seconds, and you already know how to ditch people with it?” Mark asked, before shaking his head. “Never mind, just tell me what’s going on, what happened to that guy?” He asked again, looking around for him. He just kind of assumed he had to be there, but that was about when he realized…  “Wait, why the fuck are we in a graveyard??” He asked, feeling something of a panic attack coming on, especially when he realized he was laying on top of someone’s actual grave. It gave him flashbacks to the desert, laying in a ditch, while a demon with one dark eye hovered over him…

 

“Hey…. hey.” Milo said, gently tugging him close. Mark was shaking hard, gripping so tightly onto Milo’s arms that his hands were cramping. But he allowed Milo’s soft tone to steady him, and finally was able to look back at the other man. Milo offered him a small smile. “You’re okay, you’re with me now, alright?” He said. 

 

“Yeah…” Mark replied softly. He had to force himself to unclench his fists, looking to the other man. “Can you please tell me what happened, preferably while moving very quickly to get us out of here?” he asked. 

 

“Yes, of course.” Milo replied. He moved to stand, gently taking Mark’s hands and helping him to his feet. Mark was able to stand shakily, while holding onto Milo. The other man put an arm around his shoulders, keeping him close as they began to walk through the.... Ugh… graveyard together. There was something very, very unsettling about seeing the fog hovering around the the various tombstones, seeming to rise up out of the mist. “What do  _ you _ remember?” Milo asked him.

 

“Uh.” Mark tipped his head down a little as he struggled to recall. His memory of the whole thing was understandably shaky. “All I remember is the guy. And this huge fucking wolf.” he said, looking to Milo. “Then I was trapped in a room for a really long time. But like…. It was on fire.” he frowned. “And the only way out was being guarded by that wolf.” Mark said, looking fearful once again. “Him and his red eyes…” he whispered, clearly traumatized. 

 

Milo glanced to Mark. “Oh, uh, you don’t have to worry about that wolf. He likes you.” He said.

 

Mark paused, turning his head to look sharply at Milo. “What?” he asked. 

 

“”The wolf. He’s uh…” Milo hummed. “Okay, this is weird to explain, now that I think about it. That guy? His name is Damien. Him and I go way, way back.” he said.

 

Mark gave him a dry look. “So you two are what?” he asked. “Are you friends?” He asked. 

 

“You could say that.” Milo replied. “We’ve helped each other out, here and there.” he said. “He’s a human like you, but ah… remember what I said about half-decent spellcasters?” He asked, and Mark nodded. “Yeah, Damien’s an exceptional one. He’s been at this for centuries.”

 

“I…” Mark replied, flabbergasted. “Then why did he attack me?” He demanded, and Milo looked to him. 

 

“Well, you see, Damien’s got kind of a problem.” Milo said. “He sold his soul to a devil in return for his power and immortality, and now he’s forced to follow his every command.” 

 

Mark made a face. “A devil. Not…. the Devil.” he noted, and Milo nodded. 

 

“Yeah, he’d have much worse problems if it was from the Devil, but a devil is not as bad.” He explained. “His boss ordered him to kidnap you in order to send a message to me.” he said.

 

“What the fuck.” Mark replied, placing a hand over his head. Why did he feel like his headache was coming back harder, the more he listened to this shit? “What was the message?” he asked.

 

“That this was just a shot across the bow. So to speak.” he said. “A warning to us that, though I’ve worked with him in the past, and he’s occasionally supported me… if we keep Bael in that box… it’s probably going to piss off quite a good number of demon lords out there. If that happens, we can’t count on his support. He has to run with the pack. That means Damien too, unless he can find a way to break his servitude.” he said to Mark. 

 

“Fuck me.” Mark replied, looking a little shaken. 

 

Milo bit his bottom lip. “Yeah, it wasn’t the message I was looking to receive tonight.” he said. 

 

“So what do we do, then?” Mark asked. “I mean, are the other demons like Bael was? Worse? What do we do to prepare for this?” He asked. “I don’t want to feel like I need to be on the run forever.” He said. 

 

“I don’t think it’ll come to that, necessarily.” Milo told him. “At least not so soon. We have time. We’ll have to brainstorm some ideas, but.” Milo paused, gently turning Mark to face him. “I don’t want you to worry, or feel like you can’t live your life normally. We’re going to work this out. Whatever comes our way, we’ll be ready for it.” 

 

Mark looked to Milo and sighed. “Yeah, okay, fine.” he finally agreed at length. 

 

Milo gently brushed Mark’s bangs to the side, smiling softly. Mark was nervous but, at least with Milo there, he felt safe. He leaned in, letting the other man catch him in a tender embrace.

 

After a moment, they began to move again. Because Mark wasn’t kidding when he said he really, really didn’t want to be in a graveyard. Not after the week he’d had. “Where the hell are we, anyways?” Mark wanted to know.

 

“Colton.” Milo told him. “Little railroad town buried in the heart of San Bernardino County.” He informed him.

 

“San Bernardino?” 

 

“909 country.” 

 

“Shitfuck. We need to leave faster.” Mark decided, tugging on Milo’s arm. It drew a warm laugh out of Milo, and he allowed Mark to tug him along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Earp Vendetta Ride, which I've sometimes heard referred to as the Arizona war, was a series of skirmishes between the Earps and their allies, and a group of men that Wyatt Earp believed were behind the maiming of his brother Virgil, and the assassination of his brother Morgan. There's a lot of debate to this day about who was in the right, and who was in the wrong. The point behind using this series of events was to warn Milo what he's risking here. By choosing this path, he may have a lot more to deal with than he ever bargained for. 
> 
> Here's another fun fact, I used to live about five minutes away, walking distance, from this cemetery when I was a kid! Here's a picture I took of the grave where Milo finds Mark: [Here.](https://i1273.photobucket.com/albums/y409/detectiveplotpoint/morgan_zpsc1zgmkt7.png) I have traipsed every corner of this cemetery and I know it better than my own house, sometimes. I've had quite a few spooky experiences, here. 
> 
> Also, now that I'm winding this fic down, and getting ready for the next one, I'd like to direct you all to a couple of youtube channels that I actually found very helpful for inspiring this nightmare of a story. 
> 
> Justin Scarred, whose Route 66 videos helped me to place that confrontation between Bael and the protagonists. [Don't Forget Winona!](https://youtu.be/Nu3ffSnyv1Y)
> 
> Ask a Mortician, who's [biggest dead body fear](https://youtu.be/Sic1fxVDklo) is absolutely what inspired Mark's panic attack in Chapter 2. Also, she's actually been inside the actual [Apache Death Cave.](https://youtu.be/YRhVZ6JsltU) Disclaimer: Do not go into the Apache Death Cave. You may actually die, and that has nothing to do with any "curse." 
> 
> Also, a personal message from those of us still forced to live under the 909 area code. We fucking know, okay? Our reputation precedes us, we already all know how crazy we are, lmao. Just take it as the explanation as to why this story exists, haha.
> 
> Okay, so, hope you all had fun with this, and I'll see you around for the next one.

**Author's Note:**

> Now I know I have a notoriously bad track record with finishing multi-part fics, but I swear, I swear! I'm going to try and finish this one! Besides, I mean. It sort of seems like Milo needs a nemesis right? And I have a character I've been toying with since I was 13 who sort of fits the bill. He's a really... really... bad dude, and I've always wanted to bring him out to play, and I've just kind of never had a chance to. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ I just really feel like Milo needs to earn the rights to his new toy, and Mark... well, poor Mark. But you know what I always say! So long as there's a happy ending, you can put these characters through anything, right? Completely disregarding all the trauma and therapy bills that are inevitably going to come along the way... But, that's not my problem, I'm just the writer.


End file.
